Beneath A Beating Sun
by magistrate
Summary: On an incredible world, SG1 finds a weapon capable of defeating the Goa'uld. But the price of attaining it may be too high... they may have to sacrifice one of their own.
1. PV1 542

Jack inhaled as he stepped onto PV1-542 – a habit he'd never been able to shake, even when on occasion the smells coming from the 'gate region were less than pleasant. Usually it was good to take a deep breath of fresh air first thing on a new planet; most of them were untouched, or relatively untouched, wildernesses, invigorating in the absence of car exhaust and smoke and too many people. Unfortunately, this wasn't one of those.

Two _schlorp_s followed him as the Stargate sent Daniel and Teal'c into the recycled air, and the wormhole cut out behind them. For a moment, they all looked around the room.

"Room" was a generous assessment. The Stargate sat near the wall of what was barely a closet, windowless grey walls hemming it in. A ramp led down into the debarkation area, a flat space about four meters wide. The door at the other end opened into a larger room, filled with terminals and controls. Personnel stood guard there, keeping an eye on the Stargate from what open space they could find.

"Did not Major Carter plan to meet us here?" Teal'c asked, stepping down the ramp with his staff weapon relaxed. Neither of the guards had done more than nod to them – he had no cause for concern.

"We are here a bit early," Jack said, flipping the cover off his watch. "She's probably communing with nature or something."

"Nature?" Daniel surveyed the room again.

"Space nature," Jack said. "I hear the star was something special."

"Yeah, I hear it's a real star," Daniel punned. Jack rolled his eyes.

"_Thank_ you."

"Colonel," one of the guards called as they left the gatecloset. "Major Carter won't be down for another ten minutes."

"Guessed that," Jack called back. Because if they were precisely eleven minutes early, Carter would be precisely ten minutes away eking out the last possible scraps of data from whatever she was doing. Daniel once commented that her punctuality was a survival mechanism–"otherwise she might waste a few seconds, and all the mysteries of the universe would pass her by."

"She's probably up in Lab 2F-18C," the man said, pointing down the hall. Someone had tacked up "0F/CORRIDOR A1" signs, scrawled in what looked like Major Lorne's handwriting. "If you take A1 down, hang a left at C5, then go up Stairwell E–"

"That won't be necessary," came a voice from one of the spur halls. A moment later Carter jogged in, looking very much like she'd run all the way there. "Colonel," she said. "You're early."

Jack smiled. There was no way he'd have dragged all of SG-1 to this place when the expedition first went out, seeing as SG-11 had already scoped it and all that was left was sciencing. Of course, Carter wouldn't be pried away from the post – something about the technology and a very fascinating sun – so Hammond had sent her off.

Jack didn't like having his team split up. He liked having them all together where he could keep an eye on them. When they were offworld with other teams there was always the nagging fear that they'd be kidnapped by hungry natives (in Daniel's case) or hunted to exhaustion by supersoldiers (in Carter's). Despite the fact that they were on Carter's turf at the moment, and she was less rejoining the team and more shepherding them around the base, it felt right to be back together.

"Couldn't wait to see this new toy of yours," Jack said. It looked like they weren't going to get their ten minutes of unsupervised snooping around, after all. Idly, he wondered who'd called her down here.

"Really?" Carter asked. "Which new toy were you referring to?"

Jack glanced over at Daniel, who raised both eyebrows in a _How are you going to get out of this one?_ gesture. Jack coughed. "Oh, any of the very, very interesting new devices which you covered in your _thoroughly engrossing_ progress report which – well, you know me – I read cover to cover," he lied.

They'd obviously caught Sam in a good mood, because she rewarded him with a full grin and laugh. "Of course, sir. Would you like the tour?"

Jack smiled back. "_Love_ it. T here has to hunt down Edwards, get the low-down on security, but Daniel and I want to see what you're up to."

Carter gestured them down Corridor A1, already beaming as Teal'c bowed out. "This way," she said.

* * *

A week and a half wasn't, as Sam had protested, much time to unlock the secrets of an ancient civilization, so most of the work she, SG-11, and their team of auxiliary scientists had done focused on turning the installation into a usable base and getting the infrastructure for research in place. "We've mapped out most of this facility," Sam said as they walked, gesturing past the unbroken grey walls. "It covers about nine square kilometres over the surface of the planet, along with a few towers and a sub-level, where we are. Other than that, we haven't had time to do much other than get the basic systems running – we've shored up life support, environmental systems, and a gotten a few of the computers online. A lot of this technology is so far ahead of us that it could take years to figure out with a skeleton crew like this one."

She approached a door, tapping the panel at its side. It pulled back to reveal a set of wide stairs, leading upward into a similarly grey passage.

"What we have been able to figure out is incredible," she continued. "The facility here uses systems unlike anything we've ever seen. There's some evidence that whoever built this place incorporated Ancient technology into their own devices – which means not only were these people _very_ advanced, but by studying how they were able to interface with the Ancient machines we may finally get an edge on reverse-engineering them for ourselves."

"What about this 'unlimited productive energy' thing?" Jack asked. He'd read parts of the report, after all.

Carter smiled, keying open a door near the top of the stairs. She led SG-1 into a long hallway with a transparent ceiling, turning to address them in true tour-guide fashion. "That all comes from this planet's sun," she said, pointing upward. "Meet the local hero, PSR-PV1-542."

The sky flashed.

"Whoa!" Jack said, hopping back. "Did that thing just–"

"It's a pulsar with a four-second period," Carter said. "That means it completes a rotation once every four seconds–" The star flashed again. "–bombarding this planet with massive waves of radiation."

"Radiation, you say?" Daniel asked, with a wary look at the sun.

"It's the single most important factor in this planet's uninhabitability," Carter said, indicating the land outside. What they could see was grey and barren, slag pools where volcanic activity had long ago cooled, broken rocks and meteor impacts pockmarking the landscape. "This planet is very close to its sun, and almost directly in the path of its jets. Biological matter caught without protection in one of these pulses would be vaporized."

"But we're safe, right?" Jack asked.

Carter's smile widened. "Yes, sir. If you'll follow me–"

She headed down the hallway. Jack followed, and Daniel and Teal'c followed him. Daniel cast an uneasy glance skyward as they went.

"Most of PSR's energy emissions fall outside of the spectrum of visible light," Sam said. "The effect is like you see – even at high noon, other stars are clearly visible. And, since this planet is tidally locked to its sun, this part of the planet is always in high noon."

"It's not that I don't trust you," Daniel said, "but if the radiation is as bad as you say, how are you _sure_ we're safe? I mean, besides the fact that we're all still alive," he amended. "As far as we've noticed."

Jack cast him an odd look, but Sam didn't see it. "That's what I'm about to show you," she said, leading them through the hall to the opposite door. A high opaque tower was visible through the hall's ceiling, the door leading directly into its base. It opened as they approached, and she stepped through.

The room was filled with what Jack could only speculate were computer banks and terminals of various sorts – Ancient crystals visible in some, while others held nothing like any technology he'd ever seen.

"This is the grounding distribution center for what we've dubbed 'the lightning rods,'" Sam said. "This tower, along with nineteen others around the installation, absorbs radiation, converts it into usable energy, and stores that energy in massive reserve batteries beneath the surface. For all intents and purposes that means unlimited productive energy, Colonel, replenished in under five seconds. Right now, and without most of the systems functional, we can extract about ten thousand megawatts. That's about five times as much as a nuclear power plant or the Hoover Dam operating at peak efficiency."

"Yowch," Jack said, grimacing up at the pillars that punctuated the walls. He could hear the room buzzing.

"We estimate that there were once twenty to thirty distinct safeguards, including this one, running in tandem – any one of which would generally be sufficient to protect the installation, thirteen or fourteen of which were partially devoted to power collection," Carter explained. "The problem is, they would require constant maintenance, and the facility has been abandoned for so long that most of them have shut down."

"How many?" Jack asked.

"At the moment, only three are operational, two of which feed into the batteries." Sam said. "We've tried to get some of the other ones running, but it's been difficult."

"But the three that _are_ running are... running," Jack checked.

"Yes, sir. We have our own failsafes in place – if one or more of the safeguards fail, an evacuation alarm will sound through this entire area."

"All right." Jack clapped once. "Very impressive. Now talk about tactics."

Carter took a deep breath as her brain switched tracks. "As you know, sir, this address was not on the Abydos cartouche. This means that the Goa'uld likely don't know about it. In addition, because of its proximity to PSR-PV1 and its position inside the pulsar's jet, attack from space is virtually impossible. No ship can withstand that amount of radiation – everything alive would fry, and the systems would blow out. In a practical sense, this planet is safer from Goa'uld attack than Earth."

"Well, all that's very impressive," he said. "So why was all this abandoned in the first place?"

"...we don't know," Carter admitted.

Daniel raised both eyebrows. "That's it? Just 'we don't know?'"

"We've only recently been able to identify the part of the computer core that stores logs, and we haven't translated much," she said. "But from what we can tell, it just – was. There are no indications of an attack or a natural disaster – the things that aren't working are un_damaged_, just old. We haven't found remains, but the condition of the base suggests that it wasn't closed down and moved out of. The only theory we have now is that something came up which prompted an immediate evacuation, and no one ever came back."

"Okay, that's a bit spooky," Jack said.

"Everything is perfectly safe now, sir," Carter said. "We spent a week and a half ensuring that. It's just a mystery."

"And of course there's no one around to ask," Daniel put in.

"Not... exactly."

Jack caught the subtle shift in her expression – the tensing around her eyes and the corners of her mouth that told him she was trying not to smile. "But kind of?" he guessed.

She started down another hallway. "If you'll follow me," she said.

"Where are we headed?"

"Comm and sensor room," she answered. She looked back over her shoulder, now unable to conceal a grin. "Daniel? You're going to _love_ this."

* * *

Upon entering the main control room, Daniel looked around for what Sam had been hinting at. If there was something there to fascinate him, it was under deep cover – aside from the tall screens displaying alien text and the ring of low windows, it looked like any other lab or control room in the city. Computer banks, terminals, inscrutable equipment. He had to wonder why people even _wanted_ windows in this city; the perpetual gloom of the landscape, combined with the periodic flash of the pulsar, didn't do anything for the room's environment.

Sam walked over to a side fixture, laying both hands on it as if to show it off. "What is it?" Daniel asked.

"It's an active receiver," Sam said. "Powerful enough to cut through the sun's electromagnetic interference."

The look in Sam's eyes told him that the best was yet to come. "Why?" he asked.

"The records we've managed to translate indicate there are intelligent beings within the star itself," Sam said, looking for all the world as if she'd just delivered a gift. "The people in this installation maintained contact with them, though we don't know to what extent."

"You're kidding," Daniel said, ignoring Jack's muttered _oh, boy_. "I mean, they'd have ot be noncorporeal, but – sentient, alien entities?"

"From the records, an entire society of them," Sam said. "Willing and interested in communication."

"Have you managed to contact them?"

Sam exhaled slowly. "One of the three remaining safeguards, the fold shield, actually manipulates spacetime directly over the facility to direct radiation into the collection buffers," she said. "That kind of distortion makes it impossible to get a coherent signal out. Now, when there were twenty or thirty safeguards all operating at once, the inhabitants wouldn't have had any trouble shutting one off to get a signal through from time to time. Unfortunately, we don't have that luxury."

"So there's no way to make contact," Daniel said, disappointed.

"Not that we've found yet." Sam indicated something on the far horizon. "We've set one of the old transmitters at the edge of the fold's coverage zone to broadcast on the offchance that something will make it through, but no one's answered so far."

"Well, once you get some of the other safeguards working again, you'll be able to turn off the fold shield, right?"

"That's the plan," Sam said. "But the technology here is so far beyond us that we've only had luck activating what's left in working order. Fixing anything, or reverse-engineering anything is going to take a lot more time."

"Well," Jack said, swatting idly at one of the walls, "Hammond's liked what he's been hearing, and so has the Pentagon. And from what I can tell, getting you more time isn't going to be a problem."

Carter smiled radiantly, and Jack had to hide a bemused look. _(Easiest person to shop for, ever.)_

"So," he said, "this is fun. What's next?"

"Review of tagged technology," Sam said. "Anything it looks like we might want to send back to Area 51."

"If it's all right, I'd like to take a stab at some of these records," Daniel said.

"Go ahead," Sam responded. "I think Dr. Daggart was looking forward to picking your brain anyway. I'll page him up here."

"Thanks," Daniel muttered, already pulling out a journal from his pack. Jack rubbed his hands.

"So, this tagged stuff. Anything neat? Maybe a big honkin' space gun?"

"Not yet, sir," Carter said as she led him off. "Mostly diagnostic tools, microcomputers..."

Daniel focused his attention on the record bank, referring to the jotted instructions tacked to the side of the screen. After making sure he knew what the basic commands were – open, close, and scroll – he started taking notes on symbolic groupings and waited for Daggart to show up and tell him what they'd already learned.

As Sam's voice faded away down the corridor, a small red light on one of the central panels pulsed on. Daniel didn't notice, and if he had he wouldn't have been able to identify it – but it flashed insistently, pace slowly increasing as it went.

* * *

After Carter had filled his brain with as much information as would fit, Jack wandered back through the first-floor corridors, glancing out the windows and trying to remember which was which. Carter had said the base was in high noon, but the pulsar actually hung slightly off-center in the sky – he'd tried to figure out which way he was heading based on the shadows outside, but given that very few of the hallways had windows, it didn't always work. He'd been able to find the long transparent hallway once before, or one like it – this one had more doors than the last one, he thought. And the tower looked slightly different.

He was about to backtrack for the sixth time when one of the doors opened and Teal'c stepped through, hands tucked behind his back. "Colonel O'Neill," he greeted.

"Teal'c!" Jack exclaimed. "Man, am I glad to see you. You wouldn't happen to know the way to the Stargate, would you?"

Teal'c raised an eyebrow. "I believe it is this way," he said, stepping down the hall.

Jack fell into step beside him. "Carter is convinced this place could win the war for us, after enough poking around at things," he said. "How's Edwards doing?"

"Colonel Edwards is enthusiastic," Teal'c said, sounding enthusiastic himself. Not that one could tell without knowing him. "He has only a few reservations."

"Like?"

"The installation is quite large. Securing it will be difficult. In addition, there are no weapons emplacements in the city's original design. However, Colonel Edwards assures me that attack from space will be impossible."

"Yeah, that's what Carter said too."

"The area of most concern would seem to be the Stargate," Teal'c went on. "It is Colonel Edwards' opinion that much of the equipment in the nearest lab can be relocated to allow for fixed weapons to be placed there. However, Major Carter has not allowed him to do so."

Jack had to smile. He could imagine Carter laying into the man, ensuring that none of her precious labs were wrongly handled. Edwards may have had two ranks superiority on her, but no one was under any illusions – this place had "property of Sam Carter" written all over it. "Well, we're really not expecting the Goa'uld to come in through the front door, are we?"

"It seems unlikely," Teal'c agreed. "However, Colonel Edwards has asked me to forward a request to General Hammond."

"Oh?"

"He wishes to investigate the possibility of installing an iris on this gate, as well as making this installation into a permanent offworld base. In addition to the strategic and technological advantages, Lieutenant Menard has theorized that this planet may have deposits of rare minerals; its size would indicate the presence of dense materials, possibly including naqahdah, to produce the gravitational pull which it possesses. He needs more time and access to the planet's crust in order to make a proper assessment."

"Is there anything this place _doesn't_ do?" Jack asked. "I tell ya, Teal'c, I'm glad we got here first. If the Goa'uld ever _do_ hear about this, we're going to be hard-pressed to keep it away from them."

"Then it is a good thing they are unaware," Teal'c said.

"I'll say." They were hidden, they were protected by the pulsar, and they were figuring out how to work the technology. He couldn't see what could happen. And that was what unnerved him, because when he thought things couldn't possibly go wrong, they invariably did.

He snorted to himself. Of course, he got these feelings once or twice a week. Usually missions only went catastrophically wrong once or twice a month. Besides, Carter was on the job. And when it came to alien technology and weird stellar phenomena, his faith in Carter outweighed his faith in Murphy's Law.

With that in mind, he headed back to the gateroom to make his report.


	2. Machina

Hammond's approval came quickly. After conversing with his superiors at the Pentagon, he'd come back with good news: authorization to send additional personnel and equipment through to further assess the planet. The first batch, readied overnight, comprised what Jack labelled "the good stuff": two rail guns. They were emblematic of a victory for Carter, odd as it seemed, because the first logistical difference between a research site and a permanent offworld base was that in a base, the 'gate was guarded at all times. With gun emplacements, '542 gained legitimacy.

_(Sooner or later,)_ Jack thought, _(we may have to name it something other than '542.)_

This time Teal'c met him in the gate closet, dispatching one of the guards to drag Carter away from whatever she was doing – provided it wasn't something that would explode in her absence. "I see you bring good news," Teal'c said, taking in the payload.

"Yeah," Jack said, gesturing at the techs who had accompanied the rail guns. "Siler couldn't make it. Electrical burns from his latest calamity. But these fine fellas are going to help us lock the front door around here."

"General Hammond has approved the building of an iris," Teal'c surmised.

"Not yet. He wants to make sure everything really is all right here before we take down the 'gate for upgrades." He turned back to the Stargate, eyeing the otherwise featureless room. "And I can see his point. I don't want anyone trapped here if things _do_ go wrong, not that I think they will." _(Not that I think they won't, but not that I think they will.)_

"A wise plan," Teal'c approved.

"So I guess by 'lock' I mean like 'lock and load,'" Jack mused, turning back to the hallway as he heard footsteps. "Carter! Good news! You can move in."

Carter's face lit up to at least the luminosity of PSR. "Really?"

"Not you personally," Jack said, dusting off his hands. "You are going to have to come back to SG-1 sometime. But Hammond's approved a probationary base."

"That's wonderful news, sir," she said, glancing past him at the armament.

"Yeah, I thought you'd like that." He tried to keep a poker face on, but Carter's enthusiasm was infectious and could probably start small epidemics. "So now that you're sanctioned – and guarded," he waved at the gun batteries, "what's next?"

Sam paused to think about that. She hadn't honestly doubted that Hammond and the Pentagon would ignore the opportunity for a secure base in a place like this, but she'd tried not to count her requisitions before they'd hatched. "Lt. Menard and Lt. Yanacek want soil samples to test for trinium and naqahdah," she said. "If there's naqahdah it's possible that the pulsar may have turned some into naqahdriah, though so far we haven't seen any indication of either. They're just deciding on which floor to drill through, seeing as they can't go outside."

"Radiation," O'Neill supplied.

"Well, that and..." Sam indicated the walls. "No doors. Or atmosphere."

"Two useful things to have." O'Neill quirked his head, and changed subjects. "How's Daniel?"

The question caught Sam by surprised. "...I haven't seen him," she realized. "Last I checked, he was still working on translating the records with Dr. Daggart."

"He has _slept_ sometime recently, hasn't he?"

"I had Major Lorne show him to the quarters we've set up," Sam said.

"That wasn't what I asked, Major."

Sam stifled a chuckle. No – it really hadn't been. "We haven't set up a coffee pot yet," she said. "I'm sure he got some sleep."

"Good." O'Neill stepped around the rail gun. "...no _coffee_? You've been here for, what, two weeks?"

"Pretty much."

The Colonel gave her a suspicious look. "...I don't think you're really scientists."

"Not civilians," she said. "We offered him some of the instant stuff. We've just been too busy to set up a mess."

"Now _that_ sounds like you scientists." O'Neill snorted. "Daniel on instant coffee? And here he thought he was getting all the luxuries of home."

"He protested," Sam said. "We offered to let _him_ set up a kitchen, and he almost did."

"Until he figured out it would take time away from his precious alien squiggles?"

"More or less."

"Well, why don't you go check on him," O'Neill suggested. "I'm going to make sure the techies know how to bolt a gun to the floor."

Sam nodded. "I'll do that. Should I have him check in with you?"

"Not unless he has something fascinating to share. And I mean _really_ fascinating, not Daniel-fascinating."

Sam chuckled. "Yes, sir."

The Colonel waved, and she headed off.

* * *

Daniel was, as expected, still eye-deep in the records bank. He'd forged through thirty pages in his journal, complete with three or four different tentative sentence-parsing schemas, and was just getting into the rhythm of the written language when Sam walked in. He cleared his throat experimentally. "Hey, Sam."

Sam strolled over, glancing at his journal. "Hey."

"How normal is this solar system?" Daniel asked.

Sam blinked. If she'd taken the time to rank in probability all the questions she expected to hear from him, that wouldn't have made the top half. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, is there anything weird here about the planet or the sun? Anything like that?"

"Well," Carter said, "we don't have a whole lot of first-hand observations of pulsars, but from what I know of PSR-PV1 the only odd things about it are the ranges into which the emissions fall. It's got a fairly slow period, but nothing too far out of the ordinary."

"Okay... emissions." Daniel looked up from his translation. "I have no idea what that means."

Sam nodded. "Okay. Um... electromagnetic radiation covers a wide, wide range of different things depending on its wavelength. Some examples are radio waves, X-rays, visible light, electrical energy, gamma rays... so on. Now, the pulsars we've observed tend to emit radiation in the radio wavebands, X-rays and gamma rays, as well as light. This pulsar produces an incredible amount of gamma radiation and electrical energy, with much less light and radio than a pulsar like this should be producing. And we have no explanation for that."

"Oookay," Daniel said. "What about the planet?"

"The planet," Sam said. "The planet is weird. For one, it's unusually close to PSR-PV1. For another, it's almost directly in the path of its jets – pulsars release streams of charged particles called 'jets', but only along a single axis. The likelihood of a planet naturally coming to exist inside one is... slim, to say the least. Thirdly, there's the fact that this planet is tidally locked – this side always faces the sun. Forth, it's not on the same orbital plane as any of the three other planetary bodies – and in a system as old as this one, that's highly irregular. And then of course there's the question of how this complex was built in the first place, given that anyone coming here to try to _set up_ safeguards would be killed before the safeguards could be activated."

"Okay," Daniel said, more confident this time. "Well, that explains some things."

Sam blinked. "It does?"

"There's a word in here – don't ask me what it is, I can't even guess at the phonetic equivalent – but the only translations I could come up with were... a bit intimidating," he admitted.

"What does it say?"

"That this system was – and I can't pin down the _exact_ meaning – constructed. Possibly 'assembled.' It goes on to talk about how it was 'optimized' or maybe just 'altered,' but I think it's using technical terms after that and I don't have the slightest idea on how to translate _them_."

Sam sucked in her lower lip. "That _would_ explain a lot," she said. "But that would mean whatever race made this city – this _system_ – was capable of feats of stellar engineering we haven't seen in any other race. Including the Ancients," she said, a trace of wonder in her tone.

Daniel looked up. "A race more advanced than the Ancients?" he asked.

"...not necessarily," Sam said, nonetheless looking around the room with renewed admiration. "Keep in mind, the Ancients experimented with time manipulation, wormhole physics, things that take place on levels of reality so fundamental that – what is _that_?"

Daniel took a moment to follow, during which time she'd shot over to the other side of the room. "Huh?" he managed.

"Proximity alarm," Sam said, hitting buttons on one of the control panels. A light at the top of the screen blinked a frantic red. "Daniel, can you come here?"

Daniel set down his journal, grabbed it as an afterthought, and made his way around the consoles. "What's wrong?"

Sam jabbed at a symbol that didn't appear on the taped-up cheat sheet. "Can you read that?"

"Er... 'ship,' as far as I know. Singular. The ones next to it are 'big,' 'moderate,' and 'three.'"

Sam grabbed a radio. "Colonel O'Neill, Colonel Edwards, could you report to the comm room?"

"Sam?" Daniel asked.

"We're either in trouble or about to prove what a find this planet is," Sam not-quite-explained, bringing up four fluctuating graphs he couldn't make heads or tails of. "Either way, they should be here."

_"On my way," _Colonel Edwards said through the radio.

_"Yeah. What's up?"_ O'Neill chimed in.

Sam hit the talk button again. "Sensors are picking up a ship approaching us in hyperspace. If we're reading this right, it's fairly large."

A pause. Then Colonel O'Neill's voice came through. "_Roger that."_

"Out of curiosity, how big?" Daniel asked.

"Three points of magnitude larger than moderately large," Sam said, pointing to the symbols.

"Meaning?"

"Got me."

Daniel stepped aside as Sam attacked the graphs, trying to catch the symbols she entered to have some idea what she was doing. He didn't have much luck. _(How is it they can identify all the key commands to run these things without knowing how to read "big?")_ he wondered.

Jack and Edwards jogged into the room, each with a hand on their P-90 as if they were ready to _shoot_ the ship down. "Major?" Jack asked, skipping the formalities.

"ETA about two minutes," Sam said. "Definitely a ship – we're picking up energy signals even this far out. Some of them look Goa'uld."

"D'oh," Jack said. "And here I thought this was a _secret_ base."

"We haven't had any missions recently where we could have leaked that information to the Goa'uld," Edwards said darkly. "How the hell did they know anything was here?"

A new graph came up, and Sam turned her attention to it. "Uh-oh."

"Uh-oh?" Jack asked.

"Like I said, only some of the energy signals were typical Goa'uld," Sam repeated. "Some of these look Ancient."

"Anubis?" Daniel filled in.

"Well," Edwards said, "I guess now we see if this star of yours is all it's cracked up to be."

"Yes sir," Carter said through her distraction.

Sensing a few free seconds, Jack glanced over at the forth person in the room. "Daniel," he greeted.

"Jack," Daniel answered.

"Find anything earth-shattering yet?"

"Well, it turns out this planet and star may have been constructed," Daniel said. "Then there's some bits about efficiency design, internal politics, pretty dry stuff, mostly–"

Jack's eyebrows hopped up. "Constructed, you say?"

"Apparently."

"I didn't think that possible."

"Neither did I," Daniel said, and Sam cleared her throat.

"It's dropping out of hyperspace."

One of the larger screens near the centre of the room blinked on, displaying a visual of a ship emerging. Definitely Goa'uld – definitely Anubis. Edwards sucked in breath. "That's one of 'is big ones."

"It's approaching the planet," Sam said. "It's scanning and transmitting–"

The ha'tak's engines cut out, leaving it to drift on momentum. Carter blinked, and visibly relaxed.

"Sir, the ship is disabled."

O'Neill grinned savagely at the screen. "_Nice_."

"It did transmit something out of the system before it was taken out," Sam said–

"–but it won't do them much good if they can't come within a stone's throw of the planet," Daniel finished for her.

O'Neill turned to Edwards. "Colonel Edwards," he said with mock-gravity. "I believe we have a defensible position."

"I'll say," Edwards snorted. "Major, I have to hand it to you. When you pick a planet..."

"Thank you, sirs," Carter said. "But I'm not the one who made it."

"Yes, speaking of which, how exactly does one go about constructing a sun?" Jack asked.

"Well, generally one begins with a molecular cloud and waits for it to coalesce," Carter said. "If you have the right kind of star, after it novas it will turn into a neutron star and _maybe_ a pulsar. On this scale, in this application, I have no idea."

"Mark the time and date, folks," Jack said. "Daniel?"

"Yeah?"

"_Constructed?_"

"Or 'assembled.' Don't look at me. That's what it says."

"How about you make that translation a priority for a bit, okay?" Jack said it in jest – though Daniel took it seriously, nodding and slipping back to his work. How he'd manage to make it _more_ of a priority would be interesting to see.

"Carter?" Jack asked. "Call me if any other punks feel lucky."

The tenth of her brain that wasn't engrossed in analyzing every last scrap of data took control long enough to smile quickly. "Yes, sir."

"I'm going to go help Teal'c with the gun emplacements," Jack said, hiking his thumb back at the hall and leaving his scientists to work.

* * *

Three hours later Jack had managed to chase off most of the techs, earning Teal'c and himself total creative license to mount the guns wherever they chose. To that end Jack had been exploiting the chance to test-sit each of them to determine ideal placement. He'd been tempted to test-fire them as well, but that would have been irresponsible, and weapons were among the few things he could be counted on to be deathly responsible with.

"How about now, O'Neill?"

"Another three degrees counterclockwise," Jack said, slipping out of the seat. "And about a foot and a half this way. That'll give us some cover behind the wall, but it won't take too much of a chunk out of the range."

A few of the techs had expressed their confusion over Jack's perfectionism, and Jack could see why. After all, these guns _did_ have functional arcs large enough to cover the 'gate and the second doorway if he'd just pointed them in its general direction. But when he did a job, he took pride in doing it _well_, thank you, and it wasn't his fault that his skill in interior decorating tended toward placing railguns in crowded labs.

And hell, it wasn't as if he had anything better to do.

Three hours was not, as strategic situations went, a long time. The SGC's active personnel had the advantage of being organized into small teams, any of which could be dispatched with ten or fifteen minutes' notice. The Goa'uld were ponderous by comparison.

So he really didn't expect Carter to call in when she did. _"Colonel, we've got another ship incoming."_

He let go of the gun, fumbled for his radio. "What? Already?"

_"Yes, sir. Coming in at a steep angle, which is probably why we didn't catch it until now. It seems to be smaller than the last one, but we're still getting Goa'uld and Ancient signals from it."_

"That guy does not give up, does he?" Jack asked at Teal'c. He hit the talk button. "How far out?"

_"ETA three zero minutes."_

"Three zero. Copy that." Jack swung his legs out of the chair, helping Teal'c to adjust it with one hand while responding with the other. "Anything interesting going to happen before then?"

_"Probably not, but I'd like to monitor this in any case. Lorne, Yanacek, Heismann, Trobee, if you're following this, can you come up to the comm room?"_ Carter asked over the radio. Jack looked at Teal'c.

"I think I'll head up in about half an hour," he said.

"Major Carter sounded concerned," Teal'c observed, wresting the gun around.

"Cautious, I'd say," Jack said over the tinny _right_s and _on my way_s from the radio. "Hey, Teal'c. You have any idea how Anubis might have figured out we were here?"

"As part of our alliance," Teal'c said, "we shared many plans with the Tok'ra. It is possible that this planet was originally one proposed for a joint mission of some kind."

"And then the Tok'ra got infiltrated or something?" Jack shook his head. "Damn. Even when they're gone, they're still trouble."

Teal'c simply nodded. He was too polite to get into a discussion of what, from Jack's point of view, were numerous failings from their erstwhile partners, and he'd much rather have Colonel O'Neill in a mood for lighthearted griping than serious recrimination. Any discussion would inevitably lead to recrimination.

"It always has to be _Anubis_, too," O'Neill went on.

"Anubis is the dominant power among the Goa'uld," Teal'c said. That fact alone was enough to make him dangerous – because the dominant powers, if they were strong enough to _become_ dominant powers, had the leisure of going after people who weren't their immediate enemies. It was how Ra had thrived for so long before his sudden defeat at the hands of the Tau'ri; he had assaulted his enemies with just enough force to keep their armies engaged, while the slim remainders of his fleets had conquered anywhere of value before his rivals could lay claim. Anubis didn't need to know why they were there, or even who they were. This planet could represent an advantage to him, and he would want it.

"Yeah," O'Neill said. "That's our luck."

The conversation died.

* * *

Not long after, as Jack put the final touches on one of the gun mounts with an electric screwdriver, Daniel wandered into the lab. Jack looked up, doing the math (Daniel _minus_ pet project _equalled_ intervention) in his head. "Comm room getting crowded?"

"Yeah, Sam chased me out. Something about scanning algorithms and sensor alignment." Daniel stuck his hands in his pockets, looking around for something to do. "I don't suppose _you_ have anything you need translated. I can't access the main records from any of these terminals."

"The stuff I'm working with is from Earth," Jack apologized, hefting the screwdriver. "I think some of the instructions might be in Chinese, though."

"Traditional or simplified?" Daniel asked, with what sounded suspiciously like genuine interest. Jack looked up, only to catch the far-too-innocent look on his friend's face.

"...the one with all the little pictures?" he offered.

Daniel laughed. "Can I help you set that thing up? I'm not _entirely_ horrible at following directions. Chinese or otherwise."

"Daniel," Jack said, crawling under one of the seats to tighten some screws, "it took five years before I'd trust you with a rifle on a regular basis. I anticipate it'll be at least another six or seven before I want to see you messing around with these things."

"Thanks."

"Teal'c might need some help."

Teal'c looked up from where he crouched, methodically putting away the heavy bolting equipment. "I am fine."

Daniel nodded, and checked back with Jack again.

"If you want, you can organize all that lab stuff we had to move," Jack offered. "That might deflect _some_ of the Wrath of Carter when she finds out we messed up her lab."

"Right." Daniel stepped over to one of the tables, shifting through the devices. "You know, I have no idea what kind of organizational scheme Sam uses."

"Neither does anyone else," Jack said over the screwdriver's whirr. "But I'm due up in the comm room in about five minutes. Assuming the world's not going to end, I can ask."

"Right. In the mean time, I'll just... organize."

Jack slid out from under the seat, tossing the screwdriver to Teal'c. "Have fun," he said.

* * *

"Carter!" Jack called as soon as he walked into the comm room. Which _was_ crowded – despite its size, the combination of scientists and panels overpowered it. He had to dodge Lorne and Yanacek just to get to Carter's station, never mind the fact that it was less than ten steps from the door. "We have visitors?"

"Yes, sir," Sam said. "What we thought was one hyperspace signal was actually two. Two ha'taks. One just dropped out of hyperspace, and the other came out a bit ago. The second one is sitting still, but the first has been moving around."

"What's it up to?"

"Not much," Carter said. "It came out of hyperspace at a safe distance from the sun, and it hasn't gotten within disabling range. I can only speculate at the strength of their sensors that far out, but they've been edging up on us at a snail's pace for a while now."

"But they can't actually get close," Jack checked. "No matter how sneaky they are."

"No, sir. If anything, slowing their approach would expose them to more cumulative radiation. I think they're just trying to see how close they can come."

_(I want to stick my tongue at them,)_ Jack thought. _(Or would that be tempting fate?)_ "So, they're – what? Testing the waters?"

Carter shrugged. "I guess."

Jack folded his arms. "Question. How far away can we track these things?"

"These sensors are pretty advanced," Carter said. "Depending on where the ships enter hyperspace and the angle at which they approach, we can catch them between thirty-six hours and fifteen minutes away." She tapped one of the screens, and then paused, reading over something.

"That's quite a range," Jack said, looking at the graph which had commandeered her attention. It was a fluctuating line with a bunch of jumping bars, which made about as much sense to him as an ink blot.

"Well, it only detects hyperspace distortions, and only along the scan axis." Carter's expression grew more intense, and she focused down on the bars. "There are a lot of variables."

"So it's possible with some tricky maneuvering, Anubis could come up completely under our radar."

"Yyyyyeah. Until he entered the system."

Jack exhaled. "This planet is great and all, don't get me wrong. But I'm really starting to wish for some space guns."

Carter nodded absently.

"But as long as they can't actually do anything to us," Jack said. "Right?"

"Right," Carter replied.

"Can't snipe us from the edge of the system or anything."

"No, sir, their weapons don't have the range."

"So we're safe."

"Yes, sir." She didn't sound as if she was listening to what he was saying, and that unnerved him.

"_Very_ safe."

"Very, sir."

"Safer than Earth."

Carter's distracted look had morphed into a full frown, complete with furrowed brow. "'scuse me," she said, slipping away. "I need to run some simulations..."

"You do that," Jack called after her. He grimaced, biting at the inside of his lip. As much as he'd like to believe everything they'd just agreed to... well, _Carter_ apparently didn't. And Carter was usually right about these things.

That in mind, he headed off in search of his counterpart. The search didn't take long – all activity centered itself around the comm room, and Edwards was just close enough to soak in all the news without disturbing the scientists finding it.

"Edwards!"

Edwards tilted his head in acknowledgment, waiting as Jack approached him.

"Have your men ready to evacuate," Jack said.

Edwards looked at him incredulously. "You want us to pack up?"

"No," Jack said. "Just be ready to go. Just in case."

"Colonel," Edwards said, "unless you want to shut down operations here, we're as ready to leave as we'll ever be. Evaccing will take us upwards of twelve minutes, but it's the best we can do unless we tell the scientists they can't do their jobs. And if you want to try that, be my guest."

Jack groaned, though it couldn't express the distress he really felt. "What I said about having a defensible position? Forget all that."

"Is there something wrong here?" Edwards asked.

"There are two Goa'uld ships camping out in space watching us," Jack said. "Carter's nervous, and Carter doesn't usually get nervous. That makes _me_ nervous. Twelve _minutes_?"

"Yeah, something about the labs being all spread out," Edwards said. "Jack."

"Yeah?"

"You ever considered she might just be flighty because she doesn't know what's going on?"

Jack looked at him – a strong disapproval that wasn't quite a glare. "Martin, Major Carter is the most competent scientist you're ever going to have the pleasure of working with," he said. "If she's worried, there's good reason to worry. General Hammond trusts that. You can too."

"I trust her. You think I didn't learn my lesson about trusting your team?" Edwards turned to one of the windows, staring out. The ha'tak was too far away to be visible against the stars, but the pulsar above them counted like a slow metronome. "This is enough to get anyone jumping at ghosts."

"I just want to make sure we're raring to go. If we need to," Jack said.

Edwards turned back, crossing his arms over his P-90. "Here. I'll tell the eggheads to focus on the stuff by the gate for now. Might cut down evac time another minute or two."

"Thanks," Jack said.

"Yeah." Edwards scrutinized him for a moment longer. "You know, I'm pretty sure you're wrong about this."

"Sure enough to bet?"

Edwards didn't answer.

Jack nodded. "Go talk to your team."

* * *

Up in one of the smaller labs adjunct to the comm room, Sam was burning through readouts as fast as they were delivered. Far from being absorbed by them as she usually might be, though, she was on edge and watching for developments or new news; she noticed immediately when a shadow fell across her door. "Teal'c?"

"Major Carter," Teal'c said. "You appear distressed."

"Yeah," Sam said, motioning him to a seat. "...I don't know, Teal'c. I shouldn't be surprised that they're camping out there, and it shouldn't bother me that they're watching us. From that distance, they can't get any useful information, unless they're confirming our location, but they've had more than enough time to do that. _Maybe_ Anubis has the ability to calculate Stargate addresses based on stellar coordinates, but if so, he'd have no reason to keep a ship here. Do you have any idea what he may be planning?"

Teal'c looked at the screen, silent for several seconds. "Each attempt he has made to approach has failed," he said. "I do not believe we are in danger of an aerial attack. Were I to speculate on the ha'tak's presence, I would say that we are simply being monitored. Anubis likely does not know who occupies this base, or for what purpose. If we do not present a threat to him or reveal our association with the Tau'ri in any way, he may decide that this system is of no immediate threat or use to him." It wouldn't keep him from coming back, but at least they wouldn't be a priority.

"I'd like to believe that," Sam said. "It's not that I doubt your judgement, Teal'c–"

"As I have said," Teal'c interrupted. "It is only speculation."

Sam nodded. Speculations. For someone who lived and worked as far inside the theoretical as she did, they should have been comfortable. But this was no theory. It was a very real situation, and if she couldn't place what was bothering her the repercussions could be very concrete indeed. "I guess it's all we have to go on," she said.


	3. Deus

For three days the ha'taks scoped the system, abortive runs toward the planet ending in slow retreats. The base personnel felt more and more as if they were stuck in a rabbit hole, staring up at a hawk – safe as long as they held their breath, didn't move. The fact that they could return home, out of at least _that_ danger, was irrelevant. The walls seemed smaller every hour, trapped as they were beneath a brutal sky.

The base had reached a consensus: something had to be going on. No Goa'uld, Anubis or not, dispatched two ha'taks to sit in a system and twiddle their thumbs. Ha'taks were too valuable, too necessary in Goa'uld's eternal feud. But no one knew what Anubis could be planning, and the combination of suspicion and ignorance wound through the air like an inaudible siren. Base operations continued as normally as possible, but no one could relax.

Daniel had only a vague idea why SG-1 was still on the planet. He suspected it had to do more with loyalty than anything else – he knew Jack felt useless, but as long as Carter stayed to help, SG-1 would back her up. They hadn't come to check in on her just to say "Oh, in trouble? That's a shame. See you around!" Which left them here.

Jack was restless, which wasn't unusual except as a matter of degree. Sam was holed up in a room with her science corps, which wasn't unusual except for the grim air hanging over them. Teal'c... had pragmatically decided that if a catastrophe was bound to occur it wouldn't change plans on account of fuss, and had become the one calm spot in the eddies of unease. And if anything, that unnerved Daniel more. At least with the slow-boil tension, he could _relate_.

Even if it was enough to make his head explode.

A restless Jack, on duty, had a half-life of about five hours before degrading into an irritated and snappish Jack, and he and Edwards had been squaring off about everything from evacuation protocol to base fortification. And while on a good day an unsolvable problem excited rather than frustrated Sam, having to solve the unsolvable on a deadline frayed her nerves faster than anything. The atmosphere around her turned sharp and charged, and the fact that she hadn't blown up at anyone made it worse. If he thought about it for long, Daniel found it increasingly hard to breathe.

His concentration slipped for the umpteenth time when Major Lorne approached him. "Dr. Jackson," he said. "I'm sorry, you were off radio. Lt. Yanacek and Sgt. Faraday wanted your help with something."

"Oh!" He wrestled his brain back onto track. "Yeah. Of course. Sorry. What?"

"Alien instruction manual," Lorne said. "This way."

Daniel was only too happy to follow.

* * *

Jack, stepping out of the gate closet, didn't have the luxury of distraction. He'd been walking about the facility until he wasn't sure what was worse, the worry or the monotony. Edwards hadn't been the only target of his minor explosions – when he swung through the far labs he'd found himself dressing down a tech for lack of focus, diving into it before he realized he was probably yelling at himself.

From time to time an insidious voice appeared in the back of his mind. _Get your people out of here,_ it said. _If you don't know it's safe, get your team out. They won't be running this base anyway. Let the people assigned to these jobs handle the problems._

He shook his head to dispel it. This was an SGC project. Their jobs weren't to be safe. Their jobs were to learn what they could and protect Earth's assets. No one would run away to leave others to take the fall; that wasn't how things worked.

He wanted to send Carter and Daniel home, at least – in the event of an evacuation he and Teal'c would be the ones to help Edwards oversee it anyway. But they were the most likely to be able to help, and if either of them could, neither of them would leave. Not for such a nebulous concern. And within his own duties, there was no way he could ask them to.

He'd reported to Hammond, and Hammond hadn't given an order one way or another. Hammond was waiting for their analysis. They had the experts here, and the experts were as stumped as the laymen. It drove him mad.

His radio clicked.

_"Colonel, we've got more hyperspace distortions heading our way,"_ Carter said. _"We don't know how many ships or of what kind yet, but they're about two hours out. One is coming in on a separate approach, ETA two-six minutes."_

Great. More anticipation. "I'll be there," he said, despite the fact he couldn't help. _(You'll see. Carter will figure it all out and we can fix whatever's wrong. If anything is wrong. Dammit.)_

It would be a long half hour.

* * *

The comm room hadn't emptied – techs and scientists, including Carter, still moved from console to console, trading notes and theories. But most had left to their usual labs, leaving a skeleton crew here. To let the base's operations implode would be letting Anubis win. A shroud of normalcy had been imposed, even if it proved transparent.

In the tall screen at the center of the room, three blips in a false-3D diagram showed the position of the enemy ships. The newcomer fell into place, forming a wide triangle with its brethren. Only a faint shimmer at the diagram's edge indicated the path of approach of the remaining ships, coming in at an angle directly through the triangle's center. _(It's some kind of tactic,)_ Jack thought. _(Damned if I know what.)_

"What now?" he asked.

"Well, now Anubis has a two ha'taks and an al'kesh camped on the outskirts of the system," Sam said. "None of them have made any attempt to approach the planet for a while, but to be frank, sir, they've got me a little unnerved."

_(But just a little.) _"They've got everyone a little unnerved, Carter. Take a look around."

The complex lights and panels hummed, every display keeping some tab or other on the warships. The personnel interspersed among them frowned, conversing in hushed rushed tones. People held themselves as if expecting the sky to rain down any minute. If Anubis' presence was meant to throw the outpost off-kilter, he'd succeeded.

"We're pulling all the data we can from these ships," Sam said. "I guess this is really an opportunity. We haven't had the chance to scan Anubis' ha'taks in detail before, and these sensors are amazingly powerful." Her voice fell flat. "Still. I'd like to know what they're doing."

"If there's anything I can do," Jack offered.

Carter shook her head. "If you have any theories at all, tell me. Otherwise there's not much anyone can do."

_(Theories? He's psyching us out. Asserting his presence. Playing stationary Chicken.)_ He still couldn't see what would go wrong, though it felt like it was already going. He shrugged and left the lab.

At least the scientists could do something. Read charts, make diagrams, argue probabilities and possibilities. Even if it wouldn't take their minds from the situation, it gave them the illusion of power over it. Some faint measure of control. Even Daniel, who wasn't an astrophysicist by any stretch of the word, had work to occupy him – last he'd heard a couple of techs had dragged him off to map out one of the scanner interfaces, hoping that somewhere they'd find the instructions to hit the button that turned on the system that gave them the data that solved their problem. _(That chased the cat that killed the rat that lived in the base that Jack built. Anubis is either at a loss or ten steps ahead of us, and none of us know which.)_ All Jack could do was check with Edwards for the forth time or check the gun mounts for the tenth.

He passed Teal'c on the way to the gateroom. Teal'c stood in the center of one transparent hall, looking out the window at the unbroken gloom. He nodded to Jack in a friendly dismissal – Jack took the hint, and went on his way. Maybe Teal'c would think of something if the rest of them failed. And maybe Anubis would leave them alone, and maybe the Asgard would choose today to sweep through the galaxy and rid them of the Goa'uld once and for all, and maybe Apophis would come back from the dead and Earth's two nemeses would destroy each other in a battle the likes of which they showed on Showtime Extreme. Or maybe he'd just keep walking.

Teal'c watched the pulsar, not quite hypnotized, not quite meditating. He was no scientist. For that he gladly deferred to Major Carter and Daniel Jackson. He was not disinterested in the physics behind the star, but he didn't seek out the knowledge. He'd listened to what Major Carter had to say until it seemed she no longer had use for his presence, and then he'd come out here. At the moment, there was no specific task he could perform to alleviate the situation. What he could do was think.

When he was a young boy, his father – a veteran of many battles and many campaigns – had taken him out to see the stars above Maccos. He'd told him that the sun was also a star, that some of the stars in the sky were brighter than the sun. That they appeared dim only because they were very far away, just as the lanterns in the next village looked dimmer than candles or shimmers in the sand. That had been Teal'c's introduction to astronomy and astrophysics, but not the reason he cherished the memory – his father had picked out the brightest star he knew of, and told Teal'c it was his. Such a deliberate, fanciful act of affection was rare among Jaffa. Rarer still within his own family.

Of course, he'd never learned the star's name, and when his mother took him and fled to Chulak he'd lost the star in any case. He had made one journey to Maccos since, sowing the seeds of rebellion in Chronis' Jaffa after the System Lord's death. Despite the fact that the season was wrong, he'd tried to find the star again: one point of average brightness when seen from his birthplace, hidden among multitudes of others, often vanishing behind one of the three satellites in high orbits. A star brighter than the sun.

And here on '542 was a sun as dim as a moon. No moon hung in the sky, which made sense. If the system had been constructed, and if this planet had been placed specifically here to gather energy for whatever race of people came before, a moon would be extraneous and even detrimental. A moon could cause an eclipse.

He frowned. An eclipse...

Major Carter had asked everyone on the base to brainstorm, yet another Tau'ri idiom he'd stumbled over many a time. It represented just the kind of frenetic approach he still distanced himself from. Specifically, she'd asked for anything that could compromise their security, no matter how unlikely it seemed. A satellite could cast a safe shadow from the radiation.

He nodded to the star and walked into the comm room, silent until Major Carter finished whatever urgent task occupied her. "Teal'c," she greeted. "What's up?"

"Have you considered the possibility of an eclipse?" he asked.

The look on her face told him she hadn't. Major Carter was a competent scientist – brilliant, in fact, as O'Neill often pointed out. But she herself had said that the simplest explanations often eluded her. "An artificial eclipse," she said, studying the readouts. "...no; with this much radiation, that would take a stellar body much larger than this hyperspace distortion. And I doubt even Anubis is capable of fine navigation at sublight with a moon in tow."

"What about an asteroid?" one of the techs put in. "He launched one at Earth."

Sam shook her head. "The distortion is still too small, and we have too many bogeys. Only a ha'tak could haul an asteroid this far."

Teal'c bowed slightly and stepped toward the door. That his theory hadn't been borne out didn't disappoint him, but he wouldn't take more time than was necessary.

"Wait – Teal'c."

He turned back, raising an eyebrow in query.

"What's your gut feeling on all of this?" Major Carter asked.

_Gut feeling._ Another Tau'ri turn of phrase. For longer than his human friends had lived, his 'gut feeling' had literally been a Goa'uld larva growing to maturity within him. He knew what they meant, but Goa'uld had a far different word for it. _Kalash-ju_. Soul-sight. Instinct.

Of course, his literal gut feeling had often helped – he drew insight not only from having served the Goa'uld, but hearing the subconscious thoughts of his larva as well. But now Junior, as O'Neill had named it, was dead, and Teal'c couldn't bring himself to miss it. Besides, Anubis was so far removed from the average Goa'uld that it was unlikely Junior could have given him insight beyond what he already knew.

"Anubis covets this world," Teal'c said. "Perhaps because it offers him some advantage, perhaps because it is something which he does not already possess. If he has a plan to take it, it is likely already in motion. If not, his ships may still remain here for some time seeking one."

It had been one of the reasons he'd turned from Apophis – how could the Goa'uld be gods when they were so much like children? Worse, in fact, because every Jaffa child was taught to go without. The Goa'uld would covet and scheme and plot to take, and when something eluded their grasp they would sink into sulks or fly into rages. From a distance, scheming and sulking looked similar. Even he couldn't divine which behavior Anubis displayed.

Whatever reassurance Major Carter had looked for in his reply, she didn't find it. "Thanks," she said, and Teal'c took himself out.

* * *

_(I swear, the next requisition I put in for this place is going to include twelve chess sets, three checker boards and a small library. This is beyond ridiculous.)_

Jack had exhausted almost every means of occupying himself he knew. The crowning absurdity had (to its credit) taken him most of an hour – setting up the much-neglected kitchenette, relying on the scrawled (often cryptic) notes left by the techs who had scouted the place to find running water and waste disposal. He'd just finished jotting his own signs ("Kitchen this way!", "Follow these signs for coffee!"), leaving him with nothing to do. Again. He hit his radio. "Carter, O'Neill. Can you give me an update on the ships?"

Silence. Then, _"We still don't know how many. Definitely not ha'taks, though – we think several ships of al'kesh size or smaller. ETA four-seven minutes."_

He tapped in the time on his watch. "Four-seven minutes. Copy."

_(Watch,)_ he said to himself. _(It will be three more al'kesh because Anubis thinks he can blockade the planet. Because he thinks he can scare us into leaving. Because he's going to lure some other Goa'uld here to get rid of them in the sun. He can't touch us. We're safe here.)_

He wandered it down to three-eight. Grabbing a map, memorizing paths to labs and out of them, scrutinizing every escape route, lasted him until two-four. He wandered until ten and found himself at the edge of the city – one of the near edges, but an edge nonetheless. Outside the window '542's horizon disappeared into its eternal night; the stars fell down to its edge and vanished. Beyond the light cast by the city and its safeguards lay nothing, hard and barren. A place where nothing survived.

He walked back into the base.

Navigating by the maps he had studied, he found himself in a transparent hall. From this vantage the landscape was intercut with towers and sealed tunnels. He wondered how many of them he'd covered on his stroll.

"Hey," said a voice from behind him.

He turned to see Daniel, hands in pockets, drawing up to his side. "What are you doing out here? I thought you had a free pass to the science table," Jack said.

"Couldn't concentrate," Daniel said. "They kept looking at me like I could help. _I_ don't have any idea what's going on."

Jack chuckled dryly. "And here I didn't think anything could tear you away from those records."

"You have no idea how hard it is to work in there." He pulled a hand out, scratching the back of his neck. "You look distracted."

"Oh." Jack shrugged. "That's maybe because I am."

"We still don't know what those new ships are, do we?" Daniel asked.

"Nope."

They stood in silence.

"Sam's on the job," Daniel said at length.

"Sam's on the job," Jack repeated.

Silence again.

"So what are you thinking?"

Jack shrugged. "Wondering how many of these observation halls there are."

"Observation halls?"

"Good a name as any."

"Yeah, I guess." Daniel racked his brain. "Just from walking around, I think I've run into three or four. But it's easy to get lost in this place."

"Yeah, no kidding." Jack checked his watch. "We've got about two minutes before whatever happens... happens."

"Any bets?"

"Ba'al will win at curling," Jack joked, absently. "Anubis will make a good run at football but get taken down in the forth quarter on a penalty, leaving us to take the bowl."

"What?" Daniel asked.

Jack looked over. "What?"

The hallway chittered.

Jack turned to one of the panels. Lights and symbols flashed across the screen, scrolling in the universal pace of urgency. Above, outside the long window, a cluster of glowing points streaked toward them.

"The hell...?" he muttered – just as the first streak slammed into the far section of the base, tearing through the installation and shaking the ground around it. "Get _down_!" he heard himself yell, grabbing Daniel's collar and dragging him to the ground.

More quakes followed, punctuated by the pulsar's light and searing gold explosions. A terrible modulation screamed through the intercom, just as familiar Earth sirens keened to life and drowned the air in symphony.

"What's going on?" Daniel asked, staring up out of the window with unhidden fear in his eyes.

"Get to the 'gate," Jack said, pushing himself off. "Evac."

"Jack–"

"Move it!" Jack yelled, sprinting down the hall. Behind him he could hear Daniel take off the opposite way, toward the gateroom and the labs. "_Carter!"_

He found her dashing through the control room, snapping orders left and right to the handful of techs gathered there. If anything, the cacophony was worse here – the native klaxon and the Earth sirens joined a range of auxiliary alarms, screaming into the chaos.

"Major, what the hell was that?"

Carter shook her head, thrusting one hand out toward the safeguard towers and yelling to be heard. "A wing of tel'taks, we think maybe ten or thirteen, came out of hyperspace near the planet's surface and continued on momentum into the complex."

"Anubis is having his Jaffa make kamikaze runs?"

"Yes, sir. Now, two of our safeguards are down and it's only a matter of minutes before the third fails. We have to evacuate, but we don't have time."

"Suggestions?"

"The old shield system," Carter said. "The shield _can_ be reactivated if we re-route power. We haven't because it means shutting down life support and we don't know how long it will last in any case, but it might buy us the time we need."

"Might?"

Sam shook her head. "It's the only safeguard we could get up in time."

"Do it," Jack ordered.

Carter nodded. "Sir, one more thing–"

"What?"

"The only working safeguard is about to fail, and we have no idea how long the shield will last _if_ it can be reactivated at all. If all the safeguards fail, we'll have less than four seconds to notice and react."

"I know, Major–"

"Everyone, and I mean _everyone_, has to go through the 'Gate at the earliest possible opportunity and evacuate the Gateroom as soon as they're through," she said. "If the safeguards fail while the 'gate is connected to Earth, a wave of radiation could follow us."

"Got it," Jack said.

"The Stargate has to be shut down the instant the last person is through, or as soon as the last safeguard fails," Sam said.

"Major, I get it! _Move_!"

Carter ran.

Jack hit his radio. "This is Colonel O'Neill," he snapped. "Evacuate immediately. I'll say again, _evacuate immediately_ – that's an order. Sound off if you're on radio."

Scared voices checked in, one after another. He held himself still against all instinct, counting. Four members of SG-1, three of SG-3... half of the scientists and techs. He cursed and ran for the labs – away from the 'gate. Damn scientists didn't have the sense to stay on radio, who knew what they'd do in the alarm. Take their sweet time, most likely.

_(No one gets left behind.)_

He met Edwards and Lorne in a hallway, pounding toward the outskirts. "Lorne, basement labs!" he snapped without thinking. "Edwards, 1F, I've got 2F!"

"Nine minutes to evac," Edwards yelled.

"These safeguards won't last five!" Lorne yelled back.

"Carter's on it," Jack said. "Get who you can out now. Tell them to drop _everything_!"

They scattered through the base as the sirens screamed around them.

* * *

Sam ran.

Pouring every bit of force into pushing herself forward, she ran fast enough to shift the pitch of the sirens around her.

_(Idiot!)_ It had been something so simple, so _obvious_ that she'd never seen it coming. Anubis didn't need to come within firing range – all he need to do was learn 542's orbit. She'd made the mistake of thinking that because the distortion wasn't large enough for an asteroid, it wouldn't be a ballistic. Surgical tel'tak attack. It would be funny if it wasn't so grim.

Anubis wanted the outpost intact enough to take, so he'd damaged it enough to drive them off – no more. He'd sent his Jaffa to die in tel'taks _because _they presented so little threat. And she'd stared at them in hyperspace for two hours without figuring out what it could mean.

The anger shot through her to the beat of her footsteps. _(Idiot!Idiot!Idiot!)_

She checked her speed enough to not crash into the door to the shield generator. She had it open in moments, dashing to the console before the lights powered on, finding her way in the light pulsing through the high windows _('kay. Take down life support – reroute power through those conduits – god! Boot up!)_

The console flashed to life, already displaying graphs and meters. _(This sequence starts the command line, and then these – I think these are power distribution...)_

She scanned over the symbols, entering them as quickly as memory allowed. She hadn't had time to study these, not in depth. _(Please, let me know what I'm doing. Please don't let me screw this up.)_

The fold shield fluctuated wildly, appearing and dispersing, and the radiometer danced with it. The installation had the shielding to withstand the ambient radiation, but nowhere near enough to fend off a pulse – blind chance was the only thing that kept it up when the pulses hit.

_(Ten more seconds just last __**ten**__ more seconds–)_ She hit the final command, and half of the lights blinked out. A rising _whirr_ sounded, accompanied by the whine of flowing power.

A diffuse white shell appeared against the sky.

She allowed herself a moment of triumph, double-checked the systems as rapidly as she could, and turned for the door as the fold failed completely. For an instant something outside caught her eye – the transmitter they had set to contact the pulsar. _(It's broadcasting,)_ she realized. _(It's broadcasting and if there's anything up there, maybe it can hear us.)_

Not that there was time for that now.

_"Sam, we're about two minutes away from getting everyone out,"_ Daniel called. _"Where are you?"_

Sam launched into the hallway, tapping her radio. "Heading home," she said, and then poured everything into her mad dash along the corridor. Five minutes at a hard sprint would get her to the Stargate, and a miracle would give her that. She took the turns on instinct – no time to check the signs – and reduced the world to a blur around her. After three sections her vision tunneled, her hearing narrowed down to the sound of her footsteps and the omnipresent alarms.

Two weeks in this place. She felt as familiar with its corridors as if she'd spent a year, though they'd never told her their secrets, and now they wouldn't get to. Anubis couldn't have the installation, so he'd settled for taking it from them, and she didn't have time to hate him for it. Lungs and legs burning, she only had time for running away.

The lights flickered.

_(Oh, no.)_

Her radio fuzzed.

She risked a glance up as she entered a long transparent hall. The shield was weaker now, highly translucent, with interference shimmering along it. And when the pulsar spun–

A blue glow flashed about her, inundating her senses. Particles in the air ionizing with the strength of the radiation. This was the famed blue flash of criticality accidents, one of the last things Daghlian and Slotin and even Daniel had seen before they died.

She slowed, and stopped. Another blue flash passed above her, and the shield dimmed – now it was nothing more than a thin film across the heavens.

She wanted to keep running. She wanted to make a mad dash to the Stargate, to make every effort to get out. But her logic got to her legs before hope did; without thinking through the odds, she knew there was no way to make it.

She looked up as the star spun back. Odd, she thought, how four seconds could be so long, while still being all too short. At least it was a novel way to go. At least it was a fitting way to go, that the astrophysicist should meet her death beneath one of the most incredible stars in space.

For a fraction of an instant as the shield fell, she looked straight at the brightening sun. And for the moment before the radiation hit her, washing over her faster than nerves could register pain, it felt for all the world like looking on the face of God.


	4. Vigil

He'd barely made it through the gate when the air flashed blue around him.

Half a second of comparative silence shattered in the SGC's alarm, and the Iris closed down over the open wormhole. Jack spun, fighting a moment of disorientation, then ran for the control room. "Walter, what the _hell_ are you doing! We've still got people offworld!"

"Automated defenses, sir, radiation spike," Walter said, hands poised above the controls. "We're broadcasting a 'do not proceed.'"

"_Radiation_ spike?" Jack demanded, pulse too hard in his ears to understand. "How? Why?"

"The shield," Daniel said, bearing crumpling inward.

Jack looked at him, and it hit. "Oh, _no_," he said, halfway between ordering it and realizing what it meant. "She had that thing working!"

Daniel didn't respond, eyes locked on the iris as if it had come to kill him.

"She had it _running_!" Jack said again, the only thing he could force past the chorus of _(Ohgod ohgod ohgod ohgod)_ screaming through his mind.

"Sir, the radiation is–" Walter gestured to the screens. The radiation graphs pulsed: strong washes, four seconds apart. The blast door groaned downward to seal the room.

Jack lunged at the radio mic. "Carter!"

No response. _(Ohgodohgod–)_

"Carter, can you hear me?"

Still nothing.

Jack's heart hastened, triphammering up the back of his throat. Something dark rose with it, sinking in and chilling. "Carter, if you can hear me, respond. Now. That's an order."

Nothing.

"Come on," he added, unvoiced.

"Sir, radiation is rising, even through the iris," Walter said. "We're recording dangerous levels."

Jack let go in a quick, spasmodic gesture. "Shut it down," he said quietly, staring past the blast door to where he knew the Stargate stood. "Shut it off."

"Jack–" Daniel began.

Jack turned to the control room, eyes skipping over everyone without seeing any of them. "Everyone here needs to get down to the Infirmary," he said hollowly. "There's a chance all of us may have been exposed to radiation. We don't know how much, but we aren't taking chances. Everyone down to the Infirmary, _right now_." He turned to the 'gate techs. "Walter, call in the emergency control room team."

"Yes, sir," Walter said.

The Stargate shut off and the sirens fell silent, replaced in an instant by the rushing of blood past Jack's ears. "_Move_!" he yelled – at no one, at everyone. They moved.

Vertigo followed silence, and he put a hand out. Before he could think Daniel had grabbed his arm, propelling him down into the hallway with the crowd.

Halfway down the hall – flat grey, lighter than the outpost but as bleak – his stomach clenched up, and despite Daniel's guidance he crashed against a wall. He lost seconds, couldn't feel them pass. The next thing he saw were Daniel's eyes tunneling into him. "Jack. Infirmary. Now."

Daniel didn't have to say anything else, because at that point Teal'c came up behind him and pulled him from the wall. He didn't have to say _move it_ or _radiation_ or _Carter_ or _(God, Carter–)_

He found his footing as they hauled him away.

* * *

Daniel kept his grip on Jack's arm, so tight he couldn't tell whose pulse he felt in his fingertips. For the moment everything narrowed down to the task at hand: _get Jack help_. Radiation. Jack had been exposed. Jack needed help. The thoughts circled in his mind until they'd eclipsed everything else – which was a momentary blessing, because the thoughts they eclipsed were worse. The Infirmary was his goal. The world could fall apart there. No sooner.

He'd barely stepped through the door when a medtech intercepted him. "Doctor," the man said, extracting Jack from his grip and sending him off with another tech. Someone'd told the medical staff to prep for injuries: a full contingent of techs and nurses swarmed through the crowd, while Dr. Fraiser and Dr. Carmichael managed them and the patients at once.

Daniel shook his head, searching for purchase in the confusion. "They're all–" he said, fighting the din. "It's radiation, it came through the gate–"

"We know, Dr. Jackson," the medtech said, pushing him to a bed and pressing scrubs into his hands. "Change into these."

Then he was gone, moving swiftly among the crowd.

Daniel dropped onto the edge of the bed, world reeling around him. Nothing made sense: the blips and tones of Infirmary machines, the fear in the patients' voices, the urgent footfalls. Everything should have.

He thought he heard the clicking of a geiger counter, but couldn't make it out. The details passed him by. A nurse came, took a blood sample and bandaged him up. Another on his rounds took his blood pressure, recording everything in sharp jots on a clipboard. One of the medtechs drew the curtains between beds, which should have lessened the torment. Instead his mind filled in what his eyes had no access to. He imagined the teams bleeding, skin cracking open, blood rising like bile up the throat–

He'd been through it. He'd been through Neitu and sarcophagus withdrawal and Nem's mental torture and nothing, _nothing_ compared to that – the scream of nerves as the body fell apart. Literally. As doctors looked on because nothing could be done.

His hands fisted. Radiation was not unknown to the SGC; they had minor cases every now and then. When they'd found Quetzalcoatl's pyramid SG-1 had gone so far as to find a new _kind_ of radiation to be exposed to. But accidental exposure on this scale, from a source so deadly it had already _killed_ one of their own–

He pulled his arms up around his head, fists at the back of his skull, caging himself in with the images that wouldn't dispel. Radiation had come through the 'gate. The same radiation that Sam had faced back there, that they'd left her to, the same pulse that must have–

Jack had been hit. He'd seen it, seen him stumble in the hallway. He couldn't do anything. Radiation gave no second chances. In an instant, it was decided. In an instant, it was over.

From behind the curtain he could hear Jack throw up. It sounded worse than the sirens or muted explosions, worse even than the silence from their attempts to raise Sam. He would have done anything to fall deaf for just a few moments.

Fraiser came around the curtain, checking a clipboard quickly. "Daniel?" she asked, concern breaking through her voice.

Daniel dropped his arms. "What's happening?"

Fraiser explained slowly, answering the obvious question instead of the real one. "Colonel O'Neill was right – most of you were exposed. Fortunately it's much lower-level than it could have been."

"What does that mean?"

"Most of the cases are light or negligible," Fraiser said. "We think the Colonel got the worst of it. Just under three sieverts dose equivalent."

"Three," Daniel said, but the number meant nothing to him. He could remember his own death – disorientation, irradiation. He'd stepped outside the Kelownan lab and vomited. Jack was still retching.

Fraiser looked at him, taking in his haunted gaze. She smiled gently, patting his arm with one gloved hand. "Yeah. He'll be down for a couple of days, and a week or two after that he'll experience renewed fatigue and illness, but he should recover."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure," Fraiser said. "Daniel? Are you all right?"

Daniel stared as if he didn't understand.

Fraiser smiled again, forcing reassurance into her expression. "Just take some slow, deep breaths for me, okay?"

"Sam's still on the planet," he said. _(By now there's nothing left,)_ whispered his mind. _(Biological matter is vaporized in the sun.)_ He couldn't parse it. Ignoring the cold reason, everything in his experience screamed that she had to be back there. They'd left her behind.

Fraiser's jaw clenched, voice soft so it didn't crack. "I know," she said.

There was no oxygen in the air. None that his lungs would recognize. It was impossible. Fraiser couldn't _agree_. None of this was right. Didn't she see that? Why couldn't _he_?

Fraiser's glove squeezed down. "I'll be back," she said, and went toward another patient.

"Janet!" Daniel called after her, and she turned. Emptiness passed between them, and she turned away again. He caught the glint of grief before she turned away.

To his side the choking had stopped, replaced by ragged breathing. Daniel's hands twisted in the infirmary scrubs, and when the shaking threatened to tear him apart, he closed his eyes.

* * *

Six hours passed in agony.

Not physical. Fraiser and her staff tended to everyone, addressed the most minor of symptoms, and scheduled check-ups for every last person exposed. By the end of an hour all but four patients had been released: two gateroom guards, a technician, and Jack.

Jack was the reason Daniel hadn't left. Teal'c had stood by his side until Fraiser ordered him out, but she'd given no such directive to Daniel – perhaps because she knew the Colonel would never have left were he in Daniel's place, perhaps because she realized that it would be far kinder to let Daniel stay than to force him out. Daniel had kept a desperate vigil over his friend, noting every symptom as they appeared, comparing them against his fatal sickness of two years before.

Jack looked horrible. His skin had reddened in uneven blotches, garish against the pallor of his face. When he opened his mouth faint streaks of blood gleamed against his teeth, and on occasion his breathing would increase unevenly as if he was about to vomit again. An IV led into one arm, replenishing the fluids he'd lost to nausea. Fraiser had given him a sedative, albeit a mild one, which had lulled him into a state Daniel wouldn't call _sleep_ – his eyes moved beneath his eyelids, slipping open without focusing.

Nurses had come back at two-hour intervals to take blood samples, check his temperature and blood pressure, and make new notes on his clipboard. Throughout it all Fraiser had been nearby, even as her shift drew to a close. No one in the SGC's senior staff would go home today. Daniel had barely moved by the time Jack woke up.

"Control room," were the first words out of his mouth.

Fraiser was at his bedside immediately, pushing him back before he'd risen. Most telling was the fact she was able to. "Colonel, you're in no state to be up and about."

"Bullshit." Daniel jumped – Jack wasn't the cleanest-mouthed on base, but he didn't curse so easily, and usually not at the medical staff. Of course that assumed anything, at the moment, was _easy_. "I have a SAR. I have to get up there."

Fraiser swallowed to clear her throat. "Sir, you've been out for nearly six hours."

What that was supposed to tell him was unclear – all that could been done had, perhaps, or by now there was even less chance than there had been. The message didn't transfer. "I know. You _drugged_ me," he spat. "I have a duty to perform!"

"I'll call up to have a MALP prepped," Fraiser said, to mollify him. "Nurse Warren can stay on the the phone with them through the entire deployment."

"We came back hot from a planet whose status we still don't know," Jack said. "If Siler doesn't already have a MALP prepped and on the ramp, he's asleep. Now could you please just let me go _up_ there?"

"You're in no condition to leave the Infirmary," Fraiser insisted. "Now, if–"

"Doctor." O'Neill's voice quieted, allowing no argument. "I have to get to the control room." He looked into her eyes, letting the reason pass between them. _I have to find Carter. Even if all I can do is send out a MALP._

"Wheelchair," Daniel suggested. Fraiser glanced at him, about to protest, but caught the look in his eyes.

"Wheelchair," she agreed softly. "Despite my better judgement."

O'Neill didn't argue. Colonel Jack O'Neill, who would argue against a wrist brace, accepted the wheelchair with a shallow nod and no words at all.

"No more than twenty minutes," Fraiser admonished. "Less if possible."

"Get me the damn chair," Jack whispered.

Fraiser caught the eye of one of her nurses, and the man disappeared into the back room. Jack closed his eyes, steadying his palms against the edge of the bed. A moment later the nurse returned with the chair, wheeling it to the bedside.

Fraiser looked O'Neill over, taking in what she could at a glance. She didn't want to let him out of the Infirmary, and would have tagged along were she less convinced it would be the wrong thing to do. Colonel O'Neill was on the verge of a breakdown – stress exacerbating illness, illness exacerbating anxiety. His temporary release was in lieu of a sedative, her absence a moment of relative privacy. O'Neill proved instinctively stubborn with doctors, putting on the act that he was haler than he was. The act was one more stressor she wouldn't impose on him, understanding where he was going, and what he would find.

She and the nurse maneuvered him into the wheelchair, transferring the IV to a portable setup. Fraiser ground out her complaints – this was unwise, and she knew that. But to keep him there would be more so.

She looked to Daniel. Given Daniel's concern, he'd bring the Colonel back if he so much as blanched. Scant consolation, but consolation nonetheless. "Daniel, if he shows any signs–"

"Bring him back here." Daniel nodded, hands so tight on the wheelchair's handles that every tendon stood out.

"Go on," Fraiser said, and no sooner had she finished than they were out the door.

* * *

True to expectation, a MALP sat on the ramp when Jack arrived. A pair of techs checked it, adjusting sensors and equipment. It bore the hallmarks of special assembly – plating bolted on, casings constructed over the cameras and transponders. MALPs were designed for hostile environments. This one had been modified for a _more_ hostile one.

A technician glanced back as they entered, quickly concealing his shock at seeing the Colonel in a wheelchair. "MALP is almost ready, sir," he said. "About three more minutes before it passes final inspection."

Jack nodded. "As soon as it's ready, send it to PV1-542."

"Yes sir," the tech said.

Jack's fingers curled and uncurled against his armrest, but he gave no other outward sign. His eyes locked on the techs, waiting for the okay. On the tech's screen, a clock flashed slow seconds.

After an eternity, the techs stepped away. One gave a thumbs-up as he stepped off the ramp – good to go. The tech dialed, the wormhole's flush sharp and searing against the control room's grey monotony. With a low _whirr_, the MALP moved up the ramp and forged ahead into the wormhole.

"MALP is en route," the tech said.

Seconds blinked by with malicious weight.

"MALP is through. We're picking up high background radiation, and–" The line cut. The tech jumped, quickly entering commands before looking back at Jack. "Sir, we've lost the MALP."

Jack stiffened. "How?"

"Radiation spike, sir." The tech checked the log. "Transmission length: two point one six seconds."

"So what you're saying," Jack said, low and even, "is that there's no hope."

The techs exchanged glances. Colonel O'Neill had thrown an accusation – he knew what it meant; he dared them to confirm it. No one wanted to. "I don't know, sir–"

Jack pressed a hand over his eyes, dropping it back to his lap after a moment. "How much radiation? What's the danger?"

The tech hesitated before answering. "It was enough to knock out the MALP, sir. Any human attempting to go through would be killed instantly."

"Are there any areas of the facility more shielded than the gateroom?"

"I don't know, sir–"

"Find out!"

The tech jumped, caught between Jack's order and his duties with no way to get out. "Jack," Daniel said, stepping in because only he could.

"We have survey results from that damn planet _somewhere_ around here," Jack snarled. "Edwards did a full tactical assessment. That includes shielding, so if someone here wants to go _find it_!"

"Sir," said one of the techs, a braver man than Daniel, "with this much radiation the odds that _anywhere_ on or near the planet's surface would be safe is extremely small. At this strength inert materials in the crust itself would ionize–"

"And if this place wasn't sucking power from a pulsar six hours ago that would mean something to me!" Jack barked. "Sergeant, _get the survey_!"

Hammond stepped in.

All activity ceased. The General didn't need to announce his presence – within the SGC, he couldn't hide. He could walk into a room and dominate by virtue of his presence there. Even Jack ended his tirade.

Hammond turned to the 'gate Sergeants. "Have you picked up anything on radio?"

"No, sir. With this much interference, only the MALP with its booster could cut through."

"Indications?"

"We didn't get much before the probe was knocked out. From what we can tell, life support is down. Temperature has dropped to about sixty degrees Fahrenheit, pressure to about point eight atmospheres. I can't say exactly what the ambient radiation is – levels were still climbing when the MALP died. If I had to take a guess, I would place it in the thousands of grays if not higher."

He gestured at the open wormhole. "What do you need in order to continue your recon, Sergeant?"

The Sergeant shook his head. "We don't have any equipment that could withstand the radiation on the other side, sir. There's nothing we can do to continue recon."

Jack's jaw worked, but he said nothing. Hammond sighed quietly through his nostrils.

"Shut it down, Sergeant. Jack, could you come into my office?"

Jack didn't express it, but an echo of betrayal colored the back of his eyes. "Sir?"

"Just for a moment, Colonel," Hammond said. "Please."

The _please_ finalized it – this wasn't a request. It was the gentlest possible order, and at the same time, the cruelest. Jack knew what Hammond had to say.

"Yes, sir," he answered, steeling himself as he reached for the wheels.

Daniel took initiative, pushing him out into the hall at a quick walk and toward the elevator as Hammond took the stairs. Jack tried not to grimace, tried not to argue – the minor indignity of having Daniel wheel him from place to place paled in comparison to what had coming.

Daniel walked him there and maneuvered the wheelchair to sit before Hammond's desk, carefully avoiding the General's eyes. "Thank you, Dr. Jackson," Hammond said. "If we could have a word alone."

"Yeah," Daniel breathed, and escaped, closing the door behind him.

Hammond sat down heavily, reaching for words he'd hoped never to need. "Jack–"

"Sir," O'Neill said, cutting him off at the outset. "I'm sorry if I seem a little driven at the moment. We might not have much time."

"To do what?"

"To find Carter!" Jack sat up straighter, trying to impress urgency upon Hammond through the strength of his gaze. "General, every four seconds we're sitting around doing nothing–"

"What exactly do you think has happened here?" Hammond asked.

"I think we left a key member of my team in a hostile situation," Jack answered. "And I think we are going to extract her."

Hammond gaped. Jack was the realist of SG-1 – while Teal'c sometimes tended towards fatalism, Jack's optimism had always been tempered by long experience. But he could don impressive blinders when his team was concerned. If he'd been told that he could sift the radiation from the air, the next minute would see him on the planet trying. "We can't go through the Stargate. You've seen that. And even _assuming_ we could get close enough to the planet to find anything of any use, most of our spacefaring allies are either avoiding us or wiped out–"

"We _have to go back_, sir," Jack stressed. "We don't know the planet's status. She could have a partial shield up, she could have found a protected area of the base–"

"Colonel," Hammond said.

"The bottom line is she could still be alive!"

"Every scientist I've spoken to has said that the safeguards are either on or off. With that much radiation there's simply no way to shield part of the installation without it spreading," Hammond put in. "And from your own initial reports, all safeguards were about to fail before you went through."

"We don't know that, not for sure!" Jack took a deep breath, reloading as he scrambled for points. "We still don't know how the systems there work, but they are so far beyond us. Isn't there the chance–"

"Colonel."

"If there's a _chance_, we have to take it! Don't we owe it to her to try?"

"That's not the point!" Hammond protested. "You saw yourself the effects of that much radiation. There is no _way_–"

"So we find some radiation – suit, some _something_! We get the Asgard to lend us a probe, we time a UAV to go through in the window, we–"

"Colonel!" Hammond interrupted. "_Jack_. ...it's over."

Jack stammered to a halt. "General–"

"I'm sorry," Hammond said softly.

Jack collapsed, letting his forehead fall into his palm. He dragged his fingers through his hair, finally dropping his hand onto the desk. "...she's gone," he said.

Hammond didn't confirm it. He didn't need to. O'Neill had known the truth when the iris had closed behind him. "I'm sorry," was all he could say.

O'Neill didn't raise his head. Hammond's gut twisted – Jack was so obviously ill, glanced by the same radiation that had taken his second in command. Hammond didn't want to sit him down at the briefing room table, turning the cameras on him – put him through the torture that was and always had been investigations of mission casualties at the SGC.

"If I'm dismissed, sir, I think I'd like to return to the Infirmary," Jack said. Most frightening was the chill in his voice. He didn't speak as someone whose hopes had been shattered, he spoke as someone who hadn't honestly hoped to begin with.

"Of course," Hammond said, standing. Jack made half an attempt to rise before reason caught up with habit.

Hammond opened the door to find Daniel sitting against the wall outside. For a moment Hammond stared at the pathetic figure he cut – he seemed smaller than the man he'd grown into. "Dr. Jackson," he said softly, speaking in the silence rather than breaking it.

Daniel looked up, almost through him.

Hammond wanted to reach out to him. The hardest part of his job was the distance, self-imposed or imposed from above, from below, from the letter of the regulations or the spirit behind them, he had to keep from the men and women under his command. He knew what Daniel felt – felt a good part of it himself, had felt it in totality more times in his life than he cared to recall.

But he wasn't Daniel. Nor was he Jack or Teal'c. He could understand from a distance, but he couldn't enter into that grief – he could offer support, but he couldn't impose it. The members of SG-1 – the _surviving_ members – needed each other, now, to the exclusion of other concerns. If Hammond had taken three hours to get through to Colonel O'Neill, Daniel would still have been waiting when he opened the door.

He stepped aside. "If you could escort Colonel O'Neill back to the Infirmary," he began.

Before he could finish the thought Daniel was up, hands on the wheelchair. Hammond schooled his expression as he watched – they seemed like half-people, there in form but not in spirit, going through motions that offered no hope because their only other choice was to stop moving. Neither said a word, neither met his eyes. Their senses were trapped in another, shared world of mutual grief.

* * *

Fraiser waited on tenterhooks until Daniel and O'Neill returned, and as soon as they did she could see his condition had worsened. Not through exertion or medical complication, but through defeat.

It hurt, because it was an indication of what she'd known. Perhaps more than combat officers, her job dealt with death, but to her, death was the nemesis. She would and had worked to the point of exhaustion to stave it off, to keep a soldier breathing, keep his heart beating just another second, just another hour, just another day. In the course of her duty she poured every movable part of her soul into the blood and bone of another person – and if they died, they took a part of that soul with them.

It was harder when she was given no chance. Without that attempt, what she could have done, or couldn't, gaped so loudly it seemed to want to evaporate her into the vacuum. A friend as close as a sibling had died, too far away to reach. The distance engulfed her.

Daniel helped O'Neill onto his bed again, and Fraiser took charge of the IV. "Get some rest," she instructed him. The Colonel didn't acknowledge her. He stared at the ceiling, thoughts light-years away.

Daniel backed into his own bed, sinking onto the edge. His time on '542, the tension, the adrenaline, coupled with the emotional toll of the base team's return... all of these had taken their toll. Unlike Fraiser, he had no medial expertise – he couldn't take direct action. He could only watch, and make sure that Jack wasn't left alone.

"Why don't you find Teal'c to sit with him?" she suggested. O'Neill was deaf to the world, but out of deference she pitched her voice so he couldn't hear. "You need rest, too."

Daniel blinked. "Teal'c," he said, as if just remembering. A hint of the frantic edged up on his tone. "Where is he?"

"He went to his quarters," Fraiser said gently. "He's still here." By "here" she didn't mean on base – she meant findable, nearby, alive. A blow had been dealt to Daniel that he was too, too used to receiving; someone he knew and loved, a member of his family, had been stolen from him. Though he'd never admit it, never impose, he needed to see that no others had slipped away without his noticing.

"You'll call me if–" the sentence ran into a wall.

"I'll call you if anything changes," Fraiser said. "He'll be fine."

Three sieverts had a lethal dose near LD40/30 – forty percent of those exposed would die within thirty days. For the moment, Daniel didn't need to know that. Surgical limitation of knowledge. Given the math, he might break down completely.

Daniel stayed a moment longer, extracting every drop of reassurance from the sterile air. Moving on had never been his strong point – surviving was. In this aftermath, he found it hard to do both.

* * *

Teal'c's door swung open when he knocked, swinging back into dim light. Heat and scent wafted out around it; hot wax, sandalwood and myrrh. Myrrh was a funeral scent: burned at Roman cremations, used in Egyptian embalming. Daniel halted in the doorway, unable to enter the room.

Teal'c replaced the last of his candles in its box, standing straight. "Daniel Jackson," he said softly.

"You've been in here since we got back," Daniel said, guilt plain on his face. "I should have found you earlier."

"That was not necessary," Teal'c said. "I have been meditating."

"Kel'no'reem," Daniel filled in.

"Kel'renek'mel," Teal'c corrected.

Daniel shivered. A dark place inside him had grown darker. "...vigil for the dead."

"The honored dead," Teal'c corrected again.

Daniel's words tangled deep in his throat, knotting up beside his heart. "How did this happen?"

Teal'c looked down at him, eyes deep and distant. "How could it not?"


	5. Eulogy

A shroud hung over the SGC.

On paper, the next days passed like any other. With the exception of those not released for active duty, personnel resumed their rotations. Post-casualty investigations provided only minor hiccups in the scheduled rhythm of SGC life, and certain persistent duties were simply reassigned. From a technical stance, the base moved on as it always had.

On closer inspection, the veneer of normalcy dissolved. No one could move through Level 19 without seeing the techs clearing out Sam's lab, or through Level 25 without seeing her on-base quarters similarly gutted. And while pleasantries were still exchanged, jokes still told and chats still had, a terrible undercurrent saturated everyone's manner.

It centered itself around distinct points: the Infirmary, Hammond's office, Daniel's lab. And, of course, the places the late Major had frequented – the MALP bay, the assorted labs and manufacture docks. It became a disease, afflicting most strongly those who knew her well, who had worked beside her or counted on her council and advice. The six degrees of separation narrowed down – within Stargate Command, no person or system existed too far removed to grieve. In her absence, her presence was fully realized – departments as varied as technical maintenance and theoretical physics review adjusted to her loss.

Three unscheduled offworld activations occurred. Two teams came through, and one unidentified wormhole opened – and each time found SG-1 looking up at the siren, running to the control room as they were able or tensing in the Infirmary if they weren't, hanging on every shift in the Stargate's light.

Sam never returned.

Jack was granted probationary Infirmary release, though still confined to a wheelchair and to the base. In broken sessions he completed his debriefings, his part in the investigation and his formal mission report. Daniel spent his nights on-base as well, to be on hand in case anything happened for good or ill.

Quietly, from his office, Hammond planned a funeral.

He left his door open, making himself available to any who'd come calling. A few had, awkwardly asking about the services and honors. He provided what consolation circumstances would permit.

After a few days, Daniel appeared at his door.

As with all the others, he stood for a moment without knowing what to say. He didn't know what he was looking for, what he could contribute, how close to this he wanted to be. At last, he said the only thing that came to mind.

"I heard you were planning the services."

"Organizing," Hammond said. "Major Carter will receive full military honors. I've only been trying to nail down the specifics."

"I imagine there must be a lot of those."

"Coordinating times, locations, compiling guest lists," Hammond said. "Deciding which recording of _Taps_ to use."

Daniel stiffened. "Recording?"

Hammond shook his head. The situation was caused by necessity, not disrespect or disregard, but these people had had enough necessity already – necessary orders, necessary actions, necessary deaths. "Traditionally, taps has been played either by bugler or recording," he said. "There are very few buglers in active service now – none of whom have the proper clearance to go offworld."

Daniel had looked incredulous, but it changed to uncertainty, at that. "Offworld?"

"Combat pilots in the US Air Force are entitled to a fly-by in Missing Man Formation," Hammond explained. "Given her history with the F-302 project, it seems only fitting that they perform the maneuver – and to fly the F-302s, we have to use the Beta Site."

Daniel looked down. "Have you decided who will give the eulogy?"

"I'm not sure that's for me to decide," Hammond said.

* * *

Daniel found Jack in Sam's office surveying the progress, wheelchair abandoned in one corner. Boxes lined the counters, and Sam's latest project had been wheeled away – the shelves had been bared of books, and stood against the walls like grey skeletons. "Are you going to speak?" he asked.

The question startled him. "What?"

"At the funeral," Daniel said. "Are you going to speak?"

Jack picked a pair of pliers from one of the boxes, turning it over. "What would I say?"

"You can't say you don't have anything."

"I didn't." Jack beat the pliers absently against his palm. "I sent her to die, Daniel. I know you don't see it that way, but I do. I have to. I'm not sure I should be the one to say anything."

"I'm not sure it should be anyone but you," Daniel said.

"What about Jacob?"

Daniel looked away. "Yeah."

Jack replaced the pliers, letting one hand rest on the box. "What about you?"

Daniel stopped a wounded laugh. "I'm not sure it should come from me."

"Why not?"

"How am I supposed to stand there and... lament someone's death?" Daniel asked. "What kind of an authority could I be? I don't know what the word means any more."

Jack watched him. "It wasn't your fault," he said.

"It wasn't yours, either."

"Yeah, well." Jack brushed off his hands. "I guess that's where we disagree."

Daniel looked at the floor. Someone had swept the concrete spotless. Empty.

"We can't find Jacob," Jack said. "We can't contact the Tok'ra. His daughter is–" he stumbled. "...she's dead and we can't tell him. Her brother declined to come to a _military_ funeral – the letter he wrote isn't exactly cordial. As I understand, he's planning a private memorial."

Daniel grimaced. Mark had made no secret of his disdain for the armed forces, and, when asked, Sam had made no secret of her disappointment in that fact. From Mark's perspective, undoubtedly, one more member of his family had been taken from him by the Air Force, and he had no desire to see them put on rites for her death. And yet...

"She deserves better than that," Jack said. "She should have family there. Blood relations."

"We're not good enough?" Daniel asked, recognizing the question's petulance but unable to not ask.

Jack ran his hand along the edge of the box, staring at the equipment that, in her absence, seemed impossibly mundane. She'd spent so much time here, on one project or another – it seemed she'd spent her life here, filling the room with unabashed enthusiasm. After a time, long enough to lose the question, Jack spoke. "Who is?"

Daniel's eyes travelled from the box to his face. "What?"

Jack didn't flinch, didn't cringe or look away. "Who is?" he repeated, stronger now. "Good enough. To do what? Make this worth it? Make this right?" He spread his hands, looking around the gutted lab. "If the Joint Chiefs of Staff showed up at her funeral it wouldn't be _good enough_, Daniel. She's dead for no good reason and anything after that is just a – _consolation prize_." He shoved the box across the table, setting its contents clanking against each other. He spun on his heel and stormed toward the door.

Daniel started after him. "Jack, your ch–"

"I'm not going far," Jack growled, and he didn't. He stopped just outside, leaning on the threshold with his back to the lab.

Daniel approached, studying Jack's face in profile. He couldn't see much – Jack hadn't come this far without learning how to mask his own emotions. Daniel opened his mouth to say something, closed it when he found he had nothing to say.

Jack glared at the opposite wall, similarly at loss. _No good reason_ wasn't entirely true. He'd barely made it out alive, as it was – the wheelchair stood in testimony to that. Without the shield they'd have lost valuable minutes, valuable _people_. Half of the scientists and techs. Himself and Edwards. Teal'c, almost certainly. Carter would have agreed, had he asked her – ordering her to fix the shield, ordering her away from the 'gate, had been the right decision. Or the only decision. Or just the least wrong.

But nothing changed the fact that, with full knowledge of the risks, he'd ordered her off on her own. Directly or indirectly, he was responsible for her death.

_Good enough_. He didn't know what the words could mean. Everything got muddled – values and morals and the best and worst intentions. These memorials weren't good – they were all they had. And for the task, the duty, the honor of delivering a eulogy, he knew _he_ wasn't good enough. But in the absence of anyone closer, perhaps he was the least bad.

He stepped back into the lab. "If there's no one else to speak, I'll do it," he said, taking his wheelchair again. "But it shouldn't be me."

* * *

There was no one else.

In deference to O'Neill's position or their own insecurities, no one accepted the burden. As a matter of course a laptop was brought to his Infirmary bed, curtains half-drawn to give him privacy and what little peace could be offered. He opened the computer like a munitions case, with distrust and wary respect for what lay inside.

Eulogies. He hated eulogies, as he'd come to hate everything meant to commend a life that had ended – and in his line of work ended _early_, most often. In themselves, they were nothing distasteful. But they represented a finality he'd never been able to accept. He had written eulogies and brief statements before, albeit rarely, and never for a situation like this.

As hours passed, auxiliary papers piled up beside him. Mission reports, performance evaluations, correspondence – anything that could give him some idea of how to begin or proceed. When he could find nothing external to prompt him he looked inside, only to be confronted with a tangle of all manner of things – guilt and pride and frustration and anger and respect, intertwined like rough chords and layered on a deep well of darkness. He retreated from it, pushed away the introspection and closed himself off from even his own empathy. The brief wonder had shaken him – everything beneath his sternum had been hollowed out, filled up with caverns of a deep and present emptiness.

At last, he wrote: precisely. Precision in the details, the facts, the records. A mechanical process of transfer from one report to another, an attempt to build a memorial from prerecorded lines. The words filled the screen, but didn't satisfy him.

Again, he thought, _(It shouldn't be me.)_

After he had struggled through most of a page, he looked up to see Teal'c standing at his bedside. The man had presence and more than his share of mass, but he could still approach silently – his own courtesy wouldn't allow direct interruption. "Teal'c," Jack greeted. He didn't want to know how long he'd stood there.

"You have decided to speak," Teal'c said.

"Yeah."

Teal'c nodded, tacit approval.

"I'm starting to wish I hadn't," Jack said, not entirely truthfully. He hadn't wanted to from the beginning.

Teal'c approached, sitting down on an infirmary stool. "I have thought on what I might say, were I to speak," he said.

"Come up with anything good?"

Teal'c looked at the open document, skimming the lines. Neither approval nor disapproval showed on his face. "Major Carter represented an enigma to me," he said. "At the time I met her I found the notion of female warriors foreign, even repugnant. I was at first offended that I would be asked to work alongside a female of the Tau'ri."

Jack snorted. "What changed your mind?"

"A great many things. As I worked in the service of this world, over time I came to see her not as a human female but an icon. I came to understand that she represented all those things the Goa'uld lacked."

"Intelligence, grace, wit, charm?" Jack suggested.

Teal'c frowned at the interruption. "Indeed," he said darkly. "But after many months I came to realize that even this assessment did her a disservice."

"So what was next?"

"Words and qualities denote specifics," Teal'c said. "Things easily definable. No combination of these could define Major Carter. I recognized her by the way I experienced her presence, the manners by which she taught me both directly and implicitly. Though I feel now that I knew her, nothing I can say could transfer that knowledge."

Jack exhaled. "That doesn't help me."

"No," Teal'c agreed. "You have been asked to do the impossible. To do her justice you must speak of that which placed her beyond all others. A ritual which will not allow you to express those things is flawed."

"That helps me even _less_," Jack said. "Do you have a better idea? Some – _ritual_ that will work right?"

"I know of none," Teal'c admitted.

Jack waved at the screen. "What do you think?"

Teal'c considered. "It will suffice," he said.

"It's bad," Jack paraphrased. "It's pointless and obvious and shallow but I don't know how to fix it."

"That, I cannot help you with." Teal'c stood again. "I believe you have it within you. however, you must find it on your own."

* * *

The day of the memorial dawned cool and cloudy in Colorado Springs, though the forecast from the beta site showed clear skies. The funeral had been scheduled for late evening, beta site time – which meant early afternoon Earthside, which further meant that morning found Colonel O'Neill in the Infirmary, fending off the two nurses and one doctor who insisted on helping him into his dress uniform. They crowded him, straightening seams and adjusting cuffs – he'd barely managed to take charge of his decorations, swiping them from Lt. Kaspar when he'd left to retrieve his service cap. The more assistance they provided, the more infuriated he became.

...and then Lt. Brightman pushed out a wheelchair that looked ever so slightly more formal than the one he'd used thus far.

Jack gave it a look generally bestowed upon live symbiotes, catching Fraiser's eye with a jerk of the head. "Is this a _joke_?"

"Not at all," Fraiser said.

"_No_," Jack said, trying not to fumble his medals or Kaspar would take over again.

"I'm afraid it's not negotiable, Colonel. Doctor's orders."

"I'm fine."

"No, Colonel, you're not," Fraiser said. "You're going through a latent phase. You still don't have your stamina back up, and your immune system is depressed. You can't be exerting yourself."

"I'm _fine_," Jack snarled again. "You think I'm not strong enough to stand up through my own second in command's funeral?"

"I think that as your doctor I would be remiss to let you try," Fraiser said, folding her arms. O'Neill outranked her, loomed over her by at least a head – and still couldn't find a single advantage. The woman had the power of her office and a will as adamant as his own.

"What are you going to do," he deflected. "You can't very well force me. Or do you plan on tying me to the chair?"

"Worse," she said. "I'll tell Daniel."

Jack winced his eyes shut. Because as much as it sounded like a joke, it wasn't – if Daniel thought Jack might injure himself, even through exhaustion, he would hang over his shoulder the entire time. Fraiser would already be escorting him from a distance, but _Daniel_ – Daniel had no problem fussing to his face. Constantly. Insistently. In the end, all involved knew Jack would give in just to lessen the annoyance.

"Or," Fraiser continued, laying a trump card like nuking a sentry, "I can – and will – have you confined to the Infirmary for the duration. Radiation poisoning is not a minor condition, and you've already aggravated it by exerting yourself as much as you have."

His eyes flew open, the magnitude of her threat penetrating his anger. "_What_?" he demanded.

Fraiser met his eyes, refusing to give ground.

"I. Am. Going," Jack said, snapping off the end of each word.

"With the wheelchair," Fraiser said, more smoothly but no less harshly.

Inwardly, he seethed. Usually these arguments had some subtlety – an absurd interplay hiding levity understood by both parties. As much as Jack groused and griped, he was in the argument as much for the game as for infirmary release. For Fraiser's part, a good argument served to mollify the Colonel by giving him the chance _to_ argue instead of overriding his authority out of hand. This time, she'd pulled the big guns without prelude.

He could go to Hammond, of course, but Fraiser could overrule Hammond. And, rather than argue with his chief medical officer, the General would more likely tell Jack to use the damn chair. This was a fight in which he literally had no allies, as Fraiser knew. Even if he did stay behind and sulk, in a perverse way, she'd have won.

Daniel stepped into the Infirmary, stopping when he saw the standoff. Jack looked at him, expression darkening before he turned to Fraiser.

"Give me my cover," he growled, and one of the nurses handed his service cap over. Whoever had dug it out for him had gone over it with a lint brush and polish – it looked better than regulation. "I'm standing for the eulogy."

Fraiser nodded. She wouldn't deny him that – to do so would have been cruel beyond concerned. The battle had ended and she was the victor, though as always the victory was bitter. She didn't need to tear him down as well. "Understood."

Jack sat stiffly in the wheelchair, brushing imaginary dust from its armrest. "Which I have to go print, by the way," he excused himself, nodding with a bare minimum of civility. "Doctor. _Doctor_. I'll see you both in the gateroom."

Jack took the wheels, turning them with such aggression Daniel jumped out of the way. He disappeared into the hall, and a dark cloud followed.

Daniel sidled, looking out after him. So many things had gone wrong, obvious and subtle. Jack had to bear the weight of all of them, especially his own perceived failures – the chair was emblematic of the sum. "How's he doing?"

"Physically?" Fraiser sighed. "He's slowing his own recovery by trying to do things too fast. Mentally, emotionally... he's distracted, and more irritable than I've ever seen him. I think most of it is the mix of circumstance. I _hope_ it is. I don't want to refer him to MacKenzie, but if there's a problem, I will." She looked up at Daniel, studying him quickly with a practiced eye. "How are you doing?"

"I don't know yet," Daniel answered, truthfully. "How are you?"

Fraiser paused on that. Odd as it seemed, no one had asked – Hammond had checked in, offered his condolences, but tended to stand on the sidelines rather than step in on his own. People had known of her friendship with Sam – but she wasn't on SG-1, hadn't gone into danger with her twice a week, hadn't become closer than siblings in the trenches of one Goa'uld hell or another. Of the people who knew how close they'd been O'Neill was too preoccupied with his own grief to notice anything else, and Teal'c and Hammond were too reserved to approach. She'd fallen into the same grey shroud of mourning that suffused the SGC, as all sympathy – including her own – focused on SG-1.

"It hasn't sunk in yet," she said. "I keep noticing that she's gone, and then I wonder why, where she is. And then it hits me... but it hasn't sunk in."

"I know," Daniel said, pulling off his glasses to clean them. "I keep thinking this can't be real. I know it is, but I don't believe it. I just want–" his voice snared up, and he hesitated before replacing the glasses on his head. "Sometimes I just want to grab people and shake them and tell them that she _can't_ be gone, because it's so obvious. I think it's because no one _saw_ her–" he couldn't finish the sentence. "It just doesn't seem real."

"Sometimes it never does," Fraiser said. "Sometimes you wish it never does."

She looked up. Daniel's face was carved in mourning – that same, gentle grief he displayed to so many in empathy, worn like a coat or a mantle. Behind it the real pain lay concealed, an injury bleeding inside, invisible. He hadn't asked for anything – taken it when it was offered, but never asked. He would just keep going, offering all he could, until the wounds had healed or killed him.

"General Hammond will be waiting in the gateroom," she said. "Come on. Let's go."

* * *

The eulogy printed, but not without a struggle. Jack had gone back four times, canceling the printer as it worked, making corrections, moving lines, re-reading them as they came still hot from the printer head. The other denizens of the computer lab gave him wide birth, eventually emptying the room. He didn't notice. In the end he held a document just as dissatisfying as the one he'd begun with.

Teal'c was waiting in the hallway when he wheeled out. "You are prepared?"

Jack glared down at his papers. "Prepared is such a _strong_ word for it."

"You are in a poor mood."

"Yes, Teal'c, I am. Very observant," Jack said. "Was there a point to that?"

Teal'c scowled. "At this point your anger can only serve to injure those who look to you for comfort or guidance. It is unbefitting that you should attend a memorial so incensed."

"I always get angry at funerals. You're asking me to break a fine, long-standing tradition."

"Were we on Chulak I would be within my rights to bar you from the ceremony altogether," Teal'c said.

"For crying out loud!" Jack exploded. "You're the second person today who's threatened to ground me from this thing! Is there something the world wants to tell me, or is this someone's idea of a joke?"

"There is indeed," Teal'c returned. "I understand your anger. You have every right to seek revenge against Anubis. But to attend her funeral with your heart filled with hate, to allow that anger to divert your attention and taint the ritual, indicates that you honor neither her nor her sacrifice."

Jack gaped. When he spoke again his voice turned low and rough, threatening and dark. "I cannot _believe_ you just said that to me."

Teal'c stood his ground.

"You think the fact that I'm _mad_ means I don't–" he spluttered. "_You_, of all people – you want to stand there and look me in the eye and–"

Teal'c said nothing.

"Well what the hell am I _supposed_ to feel?" Jack roared. "_Joy_?"

"You know perfectly well of what I speak," Teal'c said. "If you are to attend, do so to honor her. Not your own injuries."

He left before Jack could shoot back. Jack stared at him, betrayal and incredulity tangling at the center of his chest.

He hadn't lied – anger and funerals had married in his life long ago, and darkly, he appreciated that. The anger could wrap around him like a MOLLE, carry the coping strategies, deflect the grief. Analgesic rage. No, it probably wasn't healthy for himself or for anyone else, but–

But what?

In everything he allowed himself to believe, what little he had faith in, he'd come to understand that the role of _commander_ went hand-in-hand with _protector_. In his actions that translated physically: absorbing what risks he could, sharing what he couldn't, taking first watch, guarding his team members' backs. But he'd failed in that role, on '542.

_At this point, your anger can only serve to injure those who look to you._ Teal'c had struck a nerve with terrible precision. He'd never asked to become a confidant, a pillar of emotional support; he wasn't equipped for the role and never had been. He could barely see out of his _own_ problems, let alone heal the wounds of others. He'd run from Sara after Charlie, run from Carter after Daniel – he _knew_ they needed him as much as he could be said to need them, but there was nothing he could do. Maybe that made him a coward. That, he didn't know.

He hadn't completely blacked the last days out. He was perfectly aware that he'd lashed out at everyone within reach, Daniel, Teal'c and Fraiser especially so. Probably the three people who needed his sympathy most.

As a defense mechanism, his anger was more valuable than anything. Within his duties, it became unforgivable. He'd injured those he was meant to protect, and that was worse than failing them.

Well, he reflected, if Teal'c considered bitter guilt and shame appropriate emotions for a funeral, he'd certainly succeeded in his job.

He wheeled toward the gateroom. He'd been dressed down by Hammond more than a few times over the course of his career, and none of them had compared to the treatment he'd just received from someone technically under his command.

"Jack!"

...of course, now _would_ be the moment Daniel showed up.

He tacked on a poker face as Daniel caught up with him, taking the chair handles as a matter of course. "We thought you were going to be late. What was taking so long?"

"Teal'c had something to tell me," he said, as Daniel propelled him at a fast clip down the hallway and into the gateroom. The guest list and honor guard were already assembled. He sighed. "Daniel, I may be confined to this thing, but I'm still capable of making it through the 'gate on my own power."

He caught Teal'c out of the corner of his eye. The Jaffa didn't look at him or change posture or expression, but Jack felt chastised nonetheless.

"...if it makes you feel better," he conceded, "you can push me up the ramp."

Daniel would probably take it as a covert admission of need – ironic, since for once he'd said exactly what he meant. But that was the price one payed for being the Jack who cried "fine."

Hammond noted his presence, then nodded to the operator on duty. The Stargate spun to life, in stature and gravity akin to those assembled before it.

* * *

Hammond had asked that all personnel attending the services go through at once – opening the 'gate was no small expenditure, and only profound respect and sympathy among the program's supporters granted allowance for the Stargate to be opened once, by request, for funerals of active-duty deaths. So, while the honor guard would proceed out of the base to practice, one of the newly-complete storage rooms had been converted into a lobby for a pre-ceremony wake.

Sam's life had centered to much on her work that, with Mark Carter's refusal to attend, few people _without_ security clearance had even been considered. Most of the guests were scientists from the SGC or Area 51, soldiers she had served with, coworkers. At least one representative of every SG team able to be on-world had attended, more from those to which she had been assigned at some point. General Kerrigan had come from the Air Force Academy, General Vidrine and Major Davis from the Pentagon. Of the few civilians admitted most were scientists. One, of course, was Cassandra Fraiser, traveling through the Stargate for the fourth time in her life.

Invitations had also been sent to what few offworld friends had been deemed close enough to attend – Jonas Quinn from Langara, Warrick from Hebridan. A message had even been sent to Thor of the Asgard, though in honesty no one expected him. Numerous attempts had been made to find the Tok'ra, each as fruitless as the last. They'd made it very clear they didn't want to be found.

Jack escaped as soon as he could. No one had absolved him – he barely thought it right to be there, and couldn't take condolences. So he wheeled out of the half-finished base, past the makeshift hangars with their compliment of F-302s, into the open air.

The Beta Site, soon to be rechristened the Alpha Site after the destruction of its predecessor, had been built in the shade of a low mountain range. Wide spaces had already been cleared and leveled, but the surrounding countryside remained untouched – gentle foothills smoothing into a wide plain, low crabgrass and sandy soil phasing into trees in the distance. Not the best environment for taking a wheelchair, but not enough to deter him. Shallow ruts followed him from the base's door into the wilderness.

He stopped with his back to it, near enough to tell when he was needed. And then he just sat, letting his mind wander over nothing, letting thoughts come and go as they were wont to. P4X-650 had few native animal species – insects, mostly, who already droned in the sinking sun. Long shadows lengthened, reaching local-westward.

He could hear the honor guard practicing far away, Taps slow and fragile against the air. He looked at the sky near the sun, watching the light turn from gold to amber. Here they had a sky to cushion the sun, and enough air to breathe. Here was life, even only plant life, as far as the eye could see.

Footsteps approached from behind him, and he flinched. _(Daniel,)_ he guessed. _(Come to see if I'm all right.)_

It wasn't Daniel's voice that hailed him. "Jack?"

Outwardly, he froze. Inwardly his heart tried a strategic withdrawal through his throat, his breath tried to hasten too fast and caught, and adrenaline like bile climbed behind his tongue. Every instinct threw itself to _fight or flee_.

Right hand closing down over the wheel, he turned. "Jacob!"

In the evening sun, it was hard to tell who was paler. Jack looked like he'd seen an avenging angel. Jacob, like he'd seen the devil. "Jack, what the hell happened here," Jacob asked, voice hanging between too many emotions to rise above a whisper. "I got a message, I went to Earth, and they told me–"

"Jacob," Jack said, hand tightening on the wheelchair. He wanted to stand. He wanted to go to attention, brace for a dressing-down, fall into protocol and not look the man in the eye. Carter had been good at that; letting protocol take blows for her. Jack was the type to shed it at the earliest opportunity. "General Hammond should–"

"Jack," Jacob said. "What happened to my daughter?"

Jack looked to the ground, searching for guidance in the coarse dirt. He had too many things to say – apologies, condolences, defenses, requests for forgiveness. Some he could never say, some he would never. For now he couldn't offer more than an explanation, and someone to blame. "We came under attack by Anubis," he said. "I ordered her to shore up our defenses, buy us time for an evac. And she did... and we got out. ...and she didn't."

He'd expected, at the corner of his mind, that Jacob would explode at him. What ever happened to leaving no man behind? How could her CO evac before her? What had he been thinking, giving the order? He'd been prepared for those. He'd asked himself the same things.

Instead he saw Jacob's feet turn, take three steps off. He didn't look up to see the General's expression, but he didn't need to. When Jacob turned back, it was clear in his voice. "How?" he asked. "Exactly."

"We were on PV1-542," Jack said. "This pulsar planet. There was so much radiation – only these shields kept us safe. When Anubis attacked, they went down. She tried to fix one and didn't make it out in time."

"And what happened to you?" Without looking at his face, Jack couldn't read him. Maybe it was an accusation. Maybe it just sounded like one, because it felt like everything was.

"Radiation," he said. "When I came through the 'gate." _(When I came through without her.)_

Jacob said nothing.

Jack inhaled, slowing his breathing and squaring his shoulders.

"I am sorry to hear," Selmak said. "I offer my sincerest condolences for the loss your team has felt."

Jack looked up sharply. Jacob's face – _Selmak's_ face, now – was lined with deep sympathy, eyes gentle. Jacob had disappeared inside, whether by his own request or by Selmak's initiative. Either way, it displayed more than emotion – something Jacob was as loathe to do as Jack.

"Jacob," he forced, looking through Selmak to find him. "I am so sorry."

Selmak's eyes flashed. "We will see you at the ceremony," he said, and retreated into the evening.

* * *

After the guests and honor guard had arrived, after the flag had been positioned and all invited had been arranged into neat rows, after all protocol for the arrival and initiation of a funeral had been dispensed, Jack stepped up to the podium.

The sun rested on the horizon, sunset spreading like a slow ache across the sky. Desperate unease had settled on his skin, chilling him in the temperate air. He didn't look at Jacob. _(He should be the one standing here,)_ he thought. _(Not me.)_

"Major Samantha Carter," he began, "arrived at the SGC a Captain, seven years ago, assigned to SG-1 by Presidential order at its formation. From her first mission she was an integral part of both the team and the program. In that time she has gone on over seven hundred missions offworld, including eight as acting CO, thirty-nine on special assignment as technological advisor, and over ninety overseeing missions she, in fact, proposed. To say that she contributed greatly to our endeavors would be an understatement.

"Five days ago she died in the line of duty."

He paused, letting the words settle in the air. He hated the way it sounded: cold, clinical, a recitation of facts. The only things he wrote were mission reports – he couldn't be asked, couldn't be expected to stand here and do justice to a great woman's life. But he had been.

"It would be difficult if not impossible to find someone more qualified, more respected, or more... well liked than Major Samantha Carter," he went on. "She served the SGC in many capacities, each one vital. As a scientist, she was responsible for many of the SGC's advancements. She kept the Stargate running, solved problems none of us could have foreseen. As a soldier, as an executive officer, she performed valiantly on and off the field of battle. As an ambassador she represented Earth, reflecting great credit upon the SGC and the United States of America."

He found it harder to say each word. This cold distillation bordered on mockery – a stranger could have written it, and delivered it with as much effect.

"Her death–"

He stopped.

He couldn't let this stand as her memorial – let those assembled think that _this_ was what her life had meant to him, to anyone. He stared down at his speech, read over and over the lines. At last he winced, and put the papers aside. He cleared his throat.

He'd have liked to deliver a masterpiece. A speech whose heights of elegance would be hailed as a literary wonder, recorded and held in awe until PSR-PV1 had burned to a dense, cold ball. Instead, _(tell the truth)_ was all his mind provided.

"I wrote that her death came as a shock and her loss would be keenly felt," he said, "but that doesn't do it justice – not to her, not to her sacrifice. Truth is, I don't know what will. I could list all her accomplishments and still not come close to defining what she was or what she meant to the program, or to my team. In the time she spent with us she served as scholar, soldier, diplomat... she opened new worlds to us. Usually literally. She saved us – she saved Earth – more times than I can count. ...if there was any shock in the way she died, it was that there was a problem so colossal even she couldn't come up with a solution. ...she was our miracle worker.

"I think Major Carter's service record would speak for itself, beginning to end. It would paint a picture of a dedicated, decorated officer, highly commended, of unparalleled patriotism and competence. But those of us who knew her know how much more she was than just a fine officer. She made the SGC come alive. She could make the impossible seem easy, the technical seem _fascinating_..."

He almost smiled with the pang that shot through him.

"She never lost her sense of wonder. To the end, that was what motivated her. And unlike some in her position, she was never impatient or arrogant. She was literally one of the best people I've ever known.

"I can't say," he continued, "What she meant to us. To all of us. What I can say is that for seven years it was my honor to serve as her commanding officer, and in all that time she never ceased to amaze me. She died saving others, and only she could have managed what she did. To the end, she was a consummate officer, an incredible scientist, and a stalwart friend."

He stopped again, realizing the task's futility. He could go on like this for hours if not years and not come any closer to his goal. Teal'c was right – pinning her down in words was like catching shadows with a flashlight.

"We'll miss her," he ended, softly, simply.

He stepped down, standing before his wheelchair. Hammond nodded to one of the honor guard, and took Jack's place. "We commend the spirit of Major Samantha Carter to the universe she opened to us. We pledge to continue our journeys in her memory. May she rest in peace."

Out of the deepening darkness to the west, four F-302s approached. The sound of their jets passed like wind through the gathering, rising as they neared.

As the formation passed overhead one plane broke and climbed in steep ascent. While the rest continued eastward toward the last sliver of the Beta Site's setting sun, the solitary F-302 fired its rockets. It disappeared into the upper atmosphere and from there out of the planet's gravity, where the light of its engines disappeared among the glimmering stars.

* * *

The last notes of _Taps_ faded, taking with them the sigh of the engines. Beneath the wide expanse of the Milky Way, undiluted by pollution or city lights, the honor guard solemnly folded the flag. All eyes watched them as they proceeded with scientific precision, twice bringing edges together and finally folding it into a perfect, star-studded triangle. A guardsman held it steady in his gloved hands, walking it to Colonel O'Neill.

O'Neill accepted the flag, gravity etched in deep lines on his face. The honor guard stood back as he turned, crossing the distance between himself and Jacob at a steady march. He held the flag out carefully, offering something precious and tenuous – the only thing left of Jacob's daughter.

"On behalf of the President of the United States, the Department of the Air Force, and a grateful nation," he recited, "we offer this flag for the faithful and dedicated service of Major Samantha Carter."

Jacob's hands closed down over his in a gesture he couldn't read. Solidarity or responsibility, amnesty or blame – he removed the flag from his grip.

Jack saluted. And in that moment he felt as if something had ended between them, that but for a common grief they'd become strangers once again.

* * *

When the ceremonies concluded, the guests dispersed – some back to urgent duties elsewhere, some back to the installation lobby. Hammond watched as they went, picking out one lone form in the darkness.

Jacob's innards had turned cold and wooden, clenching up beyond Selmak's ability to heal. He held the folded flag like a lifeline; ironic, for what it was. He'd come through the message, the trip to Earth, the redirection to the Alpha site, the _ceremony_, without letting himself process any of it. Everything felt wrong, but it was foreboding – as if something terrible was about to occur, but hadn't, not yet.

He found a low crest, and sat. Selmak offered no words – just a steady stream of sympathy and comfort he couldn't accept. It hadn't begun to hurt yet. What would become grief was now a numb spot where feeling should have been.

He could hear footsteps from a distance, but didn't look up. Only a few would think to approach him here, and the weight and pace narrowed that number down.

"We tried to contact you," George said.

"I've been busy," Jacob explained.

"I'm sorry," Hammond said, apologizing for the politics, the late notice, the death – for everything. Jacob didn't respond, staring off at the black line of the horizon.

George sat down beside him.

"You know, she saved my life," Jacob said at length. "Introduced me to Selmak. I always tried to do things for her and she'd go and do them so much better. Tried to get her into NASA when she was already with the SGC... I remember she used to bring home this differential calculus homework that I couldn't help her with if I tried, and then when April rolled around she'd help me with my taxes." His voice, contrary to its words, was casual. "Think it's too hasty to say that I've completely failed as a father?"

"You didn't fail." George looked toward the horizon as well, wondering if Earth lay among the visible stars, thinking how far they were from home. "If anything, her performance reflects great credit on you."

"The last time I saw her was on an Infirmary bed," Jacob said. "After that drone had been hunting her. I remember she looked terrible. But I was just proud. So proud," he added, more softly.

"You had good reason to be."

"People are not supposed to outlive their children, George," Jacob said. "Not like this. I mean, with Selmak, who knows how long I might be alive. I thought about it. But I thought I could watch her grow up, be there with her."

"I don't know what I could say to make this better," George began. Jacob laughed without humor.

"Yeah, well, that's the theme tonight, isn't it?" He shook his head. "Colonel O'Neill sure seems to think this is his fault. Should I?"

"I don't believe so," George said. "If anything the blame lies on Anubis."

"Ultimately, of course, yes. But Anubis has done so much to try and kill you off – asteroids, Ancient weapons. What makes this time different? Or did her luck just run out?"

"You know that's a question we may never know the answer to."

"I know." He pulled back, shifting his weight. "And I know her job was dangerous, and I know she was trained to handle that danger, and I know she wasn't my baby girl any more. What I don't know is how this could happen."

Quick footsteps approached.

George looked up, identifying the intruder as Captain Leonard – one of the many engineers assigned to the beta site. "Sorry to interrupt, sir. Message from Earth," Leonard said, handing over a folded piece of paper. "Came through the 'gate about four minutes ago." He saluted and removed himself as unobtrusively as possible.

George unfolded the note, read it quickly. "There's a situation at the SGC," he said, standing. "I have to get back." He paused on the verge of stepping away. "Jacob–"

"Go on," Jacob said.

Still, he hesitated. "If at any time you want to return to the SGC–"

"You have your duties to attend to, George, and I have mine," Jacob shot, words acidic. _Duties_. Sam had hers, and Jack had his – the implications were clear. These condolences, these ceremonies, were faint consolation; the same constraints that had kept him away, that had sent Sam to her death, still enmeshed them. No one had escaped. "You have a situation. Go make sure no more of your people die."

Hammond nodded, and left him beneath the stars.


	6. Polaris

The funeral didn't sit right with Daniel.

He wasn't a fan of funerals in general, even less so when he knew the one mourned, but he'd been to military funerals before and they were always the worst. He appreciated the dignity, the solemnity and poise – but another element defined them. These funerals were _uniform_. Predetermined. Standardized. Routine. As if _death_ was routine. Something to be expected.

He could imagine entire affairs written out in the base schedule: _09:00 - Begin mission. 12:45 - Take casualties. 16:50 - Funeral. 18:00 - Dinner in the mess._ In a way, he preferred disorder. He preferred stupefaction. Death should hit by surprise and stagger all comers. People should not be _expected_ to die.

And for the past few days he'd trapped himself inside those routines, surrounded first by PV1-542 and the SGC and now the beta site. Even here, in the open air, he'd never felt so imprisoned.

But at least the sky here was a deep velvet blue, not the sharp black of '542 or the grey ceiling of the SGC. At least the air here was clean and cold, not the recycled atmosphere of either. At least the stars here were pinpoints, flickering dimly instead of beating like a slow sick heart.

"Daniel Jackson."

Daniel looked up. Apparently this hilltop was just as easy to find as he'd suspected, not that he'd wanted to hide. "Hey. Teal'c."

"What are you thinking?" Teal'c asked.

Daniel stared at the dark horizon, sinking to a small, desperate laugh. "It shouldn't have been her. It should have been me."

Teal'c regarded him gravely. "Why do you say that?"

"Because it _should have been me_," Daniel said, thinking the answer obvious. "I'm always the one who dies. That way, I can come back, it's business as usual."

"You could not be expected to have activated the shield." Teal'c fell to pragmatics. Daniel shook his head.

"All these times," he said. "When it's me, there's always a sarcophagus, or Fraiser is there, or there's some miraculous happenstance that brings me out the other side. I don't _understand_ it!" He looked at Teal'c. "Where was Sam's miracle? She doesn't deserve at least one?"

Teal'c joined him, staring horizonward. "After your Ascension," he offered, "Major Carter often spoke of the loss she felt at your departure."

He winced. "That was different."

"Indeed," Teal'c agreed. "As she was aware."

Daniel looked at his hands. He didn't want to hear these stories – didn't want Teal'c to speak of Sam behind her back, as if all her secrets were free to the world. As if she was dead. He didn't want to hear that he'd hurt her – that she'd felt these pains for his absence, as though he'd ever truly died. "What are you saying?"

"Major Carter died as a warrior. In doing so she saved many lives. She would not have wanted you to take her place."

His stomach clenched. "Is that what it boils down to, for you?"

Teal'c frowned. "What do you mean?"

"'She died as a warrior.' I don't understand this... military preoccupation with honorable deaths," Daniel said. "I've studied every culture I could get books on, but I've never understood that. The idea that there's something to be proud of, something to celebrate when a person dies. Can you actually find some way to understand this so it's a good thing?"

Teal'c drew back. "How can you ask that," he said, voice raw as Daniel'd ever heard it, faint timbre of wounded affront inaudible but for one who knew him well. "No one here has said that Major Carter should have perished. But we must recognize the fact that she has. We honor the qualities which were best in her. We recognize that she honored us in the manner of her passing. _Honorable_ does not mean fortunate, Daniel Jackson; it means that we cannot turn our backs to the good she did, which she chose to do at the expense of her own life."

Daniel swallowed.

"If it were possible," Teal'c said, "I would take any action to reverse her death, even sacrificing my own life. But it is not. We did not choose these circumstances, or a great many things would be different. We do not celebrate the fact that she died. We choose to recognize what good we can find."

He stood and walked into the darkness, leaving Daniel with his thoughts. He'd delivered perhaps the longest single outburst Daniel had ever heard, easily among the most passionate – and among the most wounded, most betrayed. Daniel couldn't bring himself to accept what he'd said, not yet – how could anything be good in this? Reparative, maybe. Mitigating, maybe. But _good_? – but he wanted to apologize anyway, tell Teal'c he hadn't meant it like that.

But Teal'c hadn't left because he was affronted or wounded. The injury hadn't come from the words, but from the fact that Daniel hadn't known – that they'd worked side by side for so long and such an integral part of him still proved to be a mystery. Teal'c didn't open himself to people as a matter of course, and when he did, he expected to be understood. He'd left so that Daniel could think on what he said, without apologies or excuses, coming to terms and rectifying what was wrong.

Daniel collapsed backward. Too much pressed in on him. This place had atmosphere, but provided no sanctuary; too much weight hung on the stars and would crush him, given the chance.

* * *

Jack completed a slow circuit of the foothills, ready to return to the SGC and whatever duties awaited. He'd escaped in the funeral's aftermath, evading Fraiser and Hammond and Daniel and whoever else might come after him to walk for a while – to try, futilely, to clear his head. The more time he spent alone, the more cluttered his mind became.

He was ashamed to admit that Fraiser had been right: he _wasn't_ strong enough to walk so far. He returned to his wheelchair panting, and when he sat the world rocked about him. He took the time to catch his breath before looking for Daniel, because if Daniel knew he'd exhausted himself, Fraiser would not lack that knowledge for long.

It said something, he decided, how many of his survival instincts traced back to those two Doctors.

Without thinking he did a tactical scan of the landscape, picking out the few people still out and about and narrowing down the number of places Daniel was likely to be. It didn't take him long before he closed in, rolling quickly toward his friend's position. The act – recon and approach – was an absurd parody of military procedure. It fit his mood.

_(...what the hell.)_

Daniel lay flat on his back, head quirked to one side, staring up as if God had written answers in the heavens. Jack doubted He had. Daniel read many languages, but he was no augur.

The wheelchair didn't creak to a halt, but the sound of strain on the cushions and axles announced him just as well. He caught Daniel's eye as he approached. "What are you doing?"

"Stargazing, I guess," Daniel answered.

Jack looked up. There were certainly enough out. Maybe it was the open countryside, maybe the planet's position in the galaxy – who knew? What did it matter?

"When I was in college," Daniel said, "I studied constellations. Where they came from – the myths, I mean. What significance they had. Occasions associated with their rising, their importance in navigation. I thought they were so far beyond me – these perfect things that would always be there, that could only change so much. That I could never step outside of. And then I stepped through the Stargate, and..." he smiled. "I wonder how many of our stories are going to end like that? 'And then I stepped through the Stargate?'"

"They're still out there somewhere," Jack said.

The topic switched back too fast for him. "What?"

"Constellations."

Daniel nodded. "The stars are. But I think as soon as I could look at the sky without recognizing them, when I could look straight at one I had seen for years and years and have no idea it was that same star..." He swallowed. "You stargaze, Jack. On these planets you _have_ to notice it. How do you deal with the fact that when you step through the wormhole, Polaris isn't the north star any more? Orion falls apart? You realize everything you thought had this perfect order is really just a jumble, up there, with no more cohesion than..." he trailed off, unable to find a comparison.

Jack didn't answer. He had no answer – and moreover, there was no reason to. Daniel wasn't talking about star formations any more than he was dancing a jig. "What are you getting at?"

"You get used to things," Daniel said. "Sooner or later you don't think about them – you take them for granted. And then something happens and they're gone, just like that. And then you get used to them being gone. ...I used to have these nightmares of being lost in the sky, unable to find my way home because the meaning of everything changed. This is the first time I've thought about it in years."

Jack could see the parallels, but still couldn't follow the line. "And? So?"

"So what scares me is that sooner or later, this won't hurt any more," Daniel said. Without rising, he waved toward the funeral grounds. "Sooner or later, we'll move on. We'll forget about her for days, or weeks at a time. Eventually, when we remember her, she'll be just a fact of the past – one more important thing that's long over. I don't want that to happen." He folded his arms, tucking his hands in around his sides. "...it happened with Sha're. I loved her more than anything, and now she's just... a memory."

It frightened Jack, too. He could feel the abyss on either side of him yawn open, gaping wider with each of Daniel's words. He coughed, and looked away – seeking solace in the crabgrass, far from Daniel and the sky. "You know," he said, "some people would say that's healthy. Moving on."

"And that scares me too. That it's healthy to leave her behind." Jack closed his eyes, but Daniel didn't see it – he ignored the unfortunate phrasing and continued. "That something happened that makes it unhealthy for us to hold on to her. I don't understand it. I don't think I want to."

_(I don't want to, either. Hell, I wish I hadn't heard any of this.)_ Jack felt lost – Daniel had ripped one more brace out of his universe, made it that much more likely to implode. He'd never thought of losing Polaris, losing the ability to orient himself by the steady array of the stars. He'd accepted the difference in night skies without thinking. It was like discovering, quite suddenly, that the ground had given way beneath him as he walked, and for the last seven years he'd been falling.

He shook his head forcefully and extended a hand. "Come on. Get up."

Daniel accepted his hand through habit before remembering that he wasn't the one injured. "You want to head back?"

"Yeah. Where's Teal'c?"

Daniel shrugged. "Dunno. I don't think he really wants to see me right at the moment, though."

"You either?" Jack made a mental note to check in with him. It wasn't like him to suddenly cut people out or isolate himself – any more than he already was isolated, at least. "Jeez. Where's Hammond?"

"What? Hammond went back already."

"Why?"

"I don't know. Something needed his attention. Something about the 'gate."

Jack caught himself. _(The 'gate?)_ That could only mean a few things. Hammond wouldn't leave so quickly unless something had gone wrong. "And he didn't think this was worth sharing?"

"I think he would have told us if it was important." Daniel took the wheelchair handles, pushing Jack back toward the installation. Jack didn't protest, partly because he didn't have the energy and partly because he suspected Daniel enjoyed this – or at least could glean comfort from providing assistance. For several minutes, they proceeded in silence.

"The story goes," Daniel began out of nowhere, "that Orion, a hunter of the titans, and Artemis, the goddess of the hunt, fell in love, but the god Apollo disapproved. So when Orion was swimming one day, Apollo challenged Artemis to display her skills at archery. From their spot on Mount Olympus he pointed to a speck in the ocean and challenged her to shoot it – and she did, without realizing that she'd just shot Orion. When she found out, torn by grief, she placed his body in the stars."

Jack braced his head in one hand. "Daniel, I swear, if this is another metaphor–"

"No, not really. I thought about that – shooting from a distance, placing a body in the heavens – but it falls apart. Which could be a metaphor in itself, I suppose. Things fall apart." He laughed weakly. "'Thing fall apart, the centre cannot hold; mere anarchy is loosed upon the world.' Yeats."

Jack reached down, braking the wheelchair abruptly. Daniel stumbled into it with a quiet _Oof_. "Sit," Jack ordered.

"Jack?" Confusion stamped Daniel's tone.

"Sit down," Jack said, indicating a patch of dirt. "We're not going anywhere for a few minutes."

Daniel stepped around the chair, sitting. He cast Jack a quizzical look.

Jack studied him in what little light existed. He didn't look crazed, not that Daniel ever did. Nor did he look as if he was about to crack. Instead he had that bearing, peculiar to him, as if he was being dragged out to sea and hadn't the faintest idea of how he'd gotten this far already.

"What did Teal'c tell you?" he asked.

Daniel looked down, picking at the grass. "That we had to find the good in this. What did he tell you?"

Jack struggled for a response before changing the subject. "She's dead, Daniel. Not lost. Not gone. Not metaphorically dead. Not 'placed among the stars,' not realigned because we're on a different planet. Dead. Quote all the poetry you want, but you have to face that."

Daniel picked another blade of grass, methodically shredding it. He didn't answer.

Jack leaned forward, trying to see his eyes. "Daniel?"

"What if I don't want to believe it just yet?" Daniel asked, throat clenched.

"You have to."

"In the long term," he said, not looking up. He shrunk down, pulled in, tried to hide.

_(God, I don't want to do this.)_ Anubis might have placed the knife, but Jack was twisting it. "In the short term we're going to sit here until you can admit it."

"Why?"

_(Because I won't let you repress this. Because running from it won't make it easier. Because if I have to give up anger you have to give up denial. Because given the chance you'll dance around it for all eternity, so you never have to admit something happened that hurt you, too.)_ Daniel's response to mutual grief was to turn inside out – radiate compassion and concern onto others as if he hadn't suffered the same. If there was one thing to be said it was he didn't wallow. Instead he compressed his pain, clenching it down like a cold black pearl. By now he had a spectacular one. Sometimes – not often, but sometimes – Jack could see it there, deep at the center of everything he did. Now Daniel was adding one more layer, and an awful one, at that; sooner or later it would choke him, fill up the space he needed to breathe.

But he couldn't say that. Some things couldn't be said – things easy to say were things simple and shallow, addressing few real points. "Because she is. And you can't change that."

Daniel picked another blade. _(We should have sent him here to clear the place for construction,)_ Jack thought darkly. _(Dammit. Damn you and damn me too – don't swallow this. I don't care if you scream or cry or attack me or break something, but you have to face this, and I have to make you.)_

"Daniel."

"So maybe I'm not good at this military stuff," Daniel said. "Calculated losses and honorable deaths and stiff upper lips. Maybe the reason I die so often is because it's so much – easier – on me, or because–" his breath shuddered, followed by his voice, followed by his shoulders through his bones to his hands.

_(...this is it,)_ Jack thought. Daniel the reserved, the withdrawn, the healer-of-others and neglecter-of-self, would fall apart in front of him. _(Controlled demolition. Has to happen, but God, I don't want to see this.)_ He held onto the wheelchair. _(Carter should be here,)_ he thought – abruptly, painfully. _(She'd know what to do.)_

"God, Jack, I know. I know! You think I don't know? Of course she's dead! In a few more years who the hell won't be? It's like I'm a carrier," he said, and laughed – a quick, running laugh, fleeing from pain he could never escape. "Of this especially virulent disease called death, and everyone will catch it if I'm around them enough. I touch things and they fall apart – it's not even a question of if any more, it's a question of when. It took this long for Sam to catch it. How long before it's Teal'c? How long 'til I kill _you_?"

"You didn't kill her," Jack said. _(All of these people you're blaming yourself for...)_ "_You_ didn't kill any of them." _(And for your question, it's already happened. You don't remember, but you've watched me die. Over and over again.)_ It was something he couldn't – wouldn't – tell him. Especially not like this, not now.

"Right. Of course. Because you've claimed that responsibility all for yourself. And you think I'm the one who needs–" He stumbled, still desperate to shift the focus. "At least you could do something. At least you can look back and say 'this is my part in this.' I can't. Where was I?

"You don't like myth, Jack? You don't like metaphors?" His hands travelled from his knees to his sides, arms wrapping around his torso as if otherwise he'd come physically undone, ribs unspooling and blood pouring out. "That's all I have. Maybe that's why I study the past, because it's one thing that won't change – you're right, though, it's not about Artemis and Orion or losing the North Star. It's about looking for meaning somewhere where there isn't any and never will be. Making sense of the senseless. If I believed in God any more I think I'd hate Him. He thought it'd be funny to turn me into a Typhoid Mary of catastrophes. I feel like I should quarantine myself for the greater good."

He pulled his knees up, rocking forward over them. The force of his words pressed against Jack's diaphragm, so that his heartbeats shuddered through his chest. Daniel had done it again – inverted his own agony, admitting it in everyone but himself.

"I feel like I can't breathe," he whispered.

Jack eased himself out of the wheelchair, transferring himself to the ground beside him. Daniel didn't look up or otherwise react to his presence – but from here he was clearly shaking, every muscle taut in knots and breath chasing itself around the inside of his lungs. Jack laid a hand on one shoulder, and he jerked as if he'd been shot.

"It feels like death," he went on.

_(And you would know.)_ Jack stretched a hand across his shoulders, drawing him in to weigh against his side. By now Daniel had collapsed into a ball, face hidden.

"Celestial navigation isn't the only type we've got," Jack said, awkwardly adopting Daniel's code. "And you're not a carrier. This is a bad business, and you're–"

He stopped himself. He'd been about to say _luckier than most_. _(As if there's anything lucky about being the perpetual survivor. Look at you.)_ Daniel's tremors fell to a familiar pattern – a long shudder, quick tripping shakes. _(God, just look at you. You're more of a wreck than I am, radiation included.)_

But for the moment it didn't matter that he didn't know what to say. Daniel didn't need words.

A cool edge infiltrated the air, wreathing through his uniform and probably through Daniel's suit. Out of habit Jack pulled him closer. He'd unconsciously slipped into thinking of the emotional wound as a physical one, and kept an eye out for the onset of shock. If the wind was any indication, the beta site would get cold before sunrise.

Time passed. Unnamed constellations moved in slow arc seconds above them.

Daniel pulled his face from behind his knees, trying not to show his red-rimmed eyes. His breath had steadied at the expense of all calm on his face – he wore an expression common to condemned men. "...I'm sorry."

Jack quirked his head, removing his arm as Daniel made to pull away. "For what?"

Daniel gestured anemically. "For being such a basket case."

"Hey." Jack stood, offering a hand again. "It's not fair, you always getting to be the stable one," he said, hauling Daniel to his feet.

Daniel shook his head as he gained his balance. "I'm supposed to be helping _you_ up." He spoke literally.

"Yeah, well. Between the two of us, maybe one of us can find our way to standing."

"You're sitting again," Daniel said, looking pointedly toward the wheelchair.

Jack rolled his eyes, sinking into the chair. "Yes, _Doctor_."

"Don't think I didn't notice you run off after the funeral," Daniel admonished, as both of them ignored the raw edge to his voice. Better a halfhearted joke than total implosion. He set the chair moving with a jolt. "I expect payment for not telling Fraiser."

"What makes you think Fraiser didn't notice?" Jack asked.

"The fact you got away with it," Daniel said.

"Point." Jack considered how best to bribe him – not only into silence, but into levity again. The mere act of breaking down had been a step in the right direction – it had brought issues to light that now Daniel couldn't ignore. But they couldn't all be faced tonight. The coming days would be hard enough as it was. "I'll buy you coffee?"

"All right," Daniel said – and Jack heard, or hoped he heard, a very faint smile in his voice.

For several minutes, he let the world simplify itself to Daniel's careful pace and the world's light breeze. Absently, he wondered how long night here lasted.

"It's three stars," he said.

It took Daniel several steps to think that through. "What?"

"Polaris. It's three stars running around each other," Jack said. He looked into the sky – unable to place Earth or Polaris or anything else in the scatter. "There's a metaphor for you, Daniel."

* * *

Hammond was already in his office when Jack made it to the control room, glancing at the room's clocks. It was evening – but, thanks to the beta site, seemed much later. Walter sat at his terminal, pouring over readings. Jack cleared his throat.

"What's going on, Sergeant? I heard there was a situation."

"We've been getting these offworld activations every few hours," Walter said. "Most of the connections last less than a second before they cut out."

"But nothing's come through," Jack said.

"No, sir. Not even a transmission."

"And we have no idea where they've been coming from."

"No, sir."

Jack looked at the screens.

"General Hammond wants to hear your recommendation," Walter said. "He asked me to ask you when you got back."

"Well, I'd recommend we put the base on DEFCON 4," Jack said without prelude.

Daniel looked up. While the SGC was allowed its own DEFCON status, it rarely deviated from the Air Force's state. Jack had, on occasion, joked that it would make sense to get rid of the SGC's condition 5 altogether, because at any given time _someone_ out in the universe was bound to be plotting their destruction. But those had been jokes. An increase now meant he expected something to happen. "Is that really necessary?"

"Maybe you didn't read that report," Jack said, "but the last time Anubis sent nothing through the Stargate it almost blew up the planet."

"You don't know it's Anubis," Daniel said, ignoring, for the moment, Jack's semantic gaffe.

"No, we don't. But raise your hand if you think he's not going to come after us." Jack turned to the 'gate. "He's not just going to lurk out in the wilderness stepping on our fingers when we put a hand out," he said, frankensteining a metaphor. "Sooner or later he will attack Earth, if not with ships and drones, by some crazy underhanded method. He's done it before. Until we know for sure it's not Anubis, I think we should act like it is."

"But we can't do anything, can we?" Daniel asked. "We have to wait for him to make his move."

_(At which point we scramble and react, and nine minutes later more of our people die.)_ "Recurring theme, isn't it?"

"Getting there."

"Hey, Walter," Jack said. "Has Teal'c showed up yet?"

"Yes, sir – about an hour ago. I haven't seen him since then."

_(Right. Well, he'll show up sooner or later. Much like Anubis, though I know who I'd rather see. I think.)_ He shook his head. "I'm going to check in with Doc Bonaparte."

"Right," Daniel said, reaching for the wheelchair handles.

"Daniel," Jack said, taking the wheels. "_You_ go _sleep_." _(If you're not exhausted now, you will be as soon as the last few hours catch up with you.)_ "I know the way."

Daniel let go. "...right," he said. "See you."

They parted ways.

* * *

Jack made sure Fraiser saw him trundle into the Infirmary like a good, obedient patient, because otherwise he wouldn't have bothered. His attention was already too divided – pleasing the good Doctor provided one more annoyance.

A fresh set of scrubs lay on his bed, neatly folded. Fraiser waved him over to them without looking up – she was neck-deep in _some_ pile of papers, regardless of the fact that they hadn't had any catastrophes other than '542. Paperwork could appear out of nowhere – the curse of the SGC administration. He knew the feeling well.

He drew the privacy curtains around the bed, changing into the scrubs. He could have lived out his life quite happily without ever seeing a set again. _(I hate these things so damn much.)_

He pulled the curtain back, scanning the room. Fraiser had already gotten her equipment ready, including – always his favorite – a needle and test tube. "You're really selling all this blood, aren't you?" he groused. "I really don't see why you need so much. Can't you just take a pint at a time and call it good for two months?"

Fraiser smiled. At least one could always count on Colonel O'Neill to be a curmudgeon. The fact that he still joked while complaining suggested there might be hope yet – his ill temper was an odd source of comfort, but she'd seen odder. "Procedure following exposure to radiation," she said. "Take a full blood count every two hours for the first eight hours after exposure, every six hours for the next two days, and periodically after that to watch for signs of infection." She took his arm, quickly seeking out a vein that didn't look overly abused. By now he was so used to this that he didn't even wince at the needle going in – Fraiser went through the familiar pattern and bandaged him up, and the entire process took less than a minute. "So, Colonel, how are you feeling?"

"Fine. Peachy. Good enough to go home."

"Not quite yet," she said, handing off the vial to a medtech.

"I've been here for most of a week, I'm not contagious, and I doubt you're keeping me here for the pleasure of my company," he said. "I'd be going home to _sleep_."

"I'm sure," Fraiser said.

Jack looked around, resigned. "I don't suppose you'd believe me if I said the walls were closing in?"

"We have people you can talk to about that," she said, carefully moderating her expression.

There, Jack winced. "Never mind."

A Lieutenant – one of the MALP techs, it looked like – walked in the door, and Fraiser excused herself. "Make yourself comfortable for a bit," she said.

_(Yes. Comfortable. Comfort and the Infirmary just go hand in hand.)_ He leaned back on the bed, watching as she tended to her newest patient. In the days he'd been stuck here, he'd seen the routine many times. This wasn't his world – it was far too subtle, too intricate, too reactive. A situation arose, and the Infirmary staff took it from there. Jack wanted to be out there _doing_ stuff, not fixing... people.

Of course, speaking of fixing people, he knew there was more to be done. Everyone around him was broken in one way or another.

_(Daniel will need more help to get through this. Who knows what Teal'c thinks of everything – I'd almost expect him to be fine with it. Well, not fine with it per se, but moreso than the rest of us. That damn Jaffa fatalism – what is it, do they train them just to die?)_ His expression tried to sour, but he stopped it. No use attracting the nurses. _(Fatalism and revenge. The revenge bit I like better. Less so when it leads into the getting-himself-killed, but in principle, I approve.)_ He couldn't stop a quiet snarl. _(I know some things I'd like to do to Anubis right now.)_

_(Of course, Anubis has a few strategic advantages over us. Like first-strike capability. And invulnerability. And overwhelming force.)_

Fraiser reappeared from the direction of the labs. "Your blood count is looking better," she said. "If you'd like, you don't have to stay in the Infirmary tonight, though I do want you to stay on base."

O'Neill raised an eyebrow. "I really can't just go home?"

"Not yet," she apologized. "We'll see what your condition is tomorrow."

Jack kicked at the wheelchair. "Tell me I don't have to keep that thing."

"Well, it's obvious you're strong enough to take short walks on your own," Fraiser said, giving him a look that said in no uncertain terms she suspected what he'd been doing after the funeral. "I won't insist on it inside the base on the condition that you'll take it easy."

"And outside the base?"

"Well, given that I'm not even going to consider releasing you until tomorrow, we'll talk about that then," Fraiser said. She caught herself as he grimaced, quickly studying his face before he could recognize the scrutiny.

She was one of a very small population – those with actual knowledge of what the Colonel was going through. She'd been in the room three years before, when he'd been considered a zatarc and had refuted it, haltingly, spectacularly. She'd reported it to Hammond – as her own duty dictated – and Hammond had decided that as long as no problems arose they would gracefully ignore it. And they had. All parties had. Until the bitter end, duty had come first.

"Colonel," she said. "If you need anything, be sure to tell me."

He stared at her, and the look in his eyes told her he'd heard the twin meanings. "Yeah," he said. "No. Thanks."

He took himself out the door. His on-base quarters weren't ideal, but they lay in the right direction. One small step in the long road home.

* * *

Contrary to all expectation, the next day passed without incident. Five more offworld activations were reported through the night and early morning, each one cutting out as soon as it was established. The last appeared at 06:41, and after that, all was quiet. At noon Hammond warily downgraded the SGC to DEFCON 5, after a sweep of the base and a full 'gate diagnostic revealed nothing wrong. If it was another of Anubis' ploys, they had no way of knowing. If it wasn't... the same problem applied.

In the mean time, the day's normalcy turned from unexpected to stifling. Teal'c didn't explode. Daniel didn't suffer a nervous breakdown. The Stargate didn't activate. Anubis didn't attack. Carter didn't come back from the dead. And Jack found himself wishing for _something_, no matter how catastrophic, to occur.

Of course, as soon as he thought it, he caught himself – _no matter how catastrophic_ was a dangerous thing to wish for.

But this – this was the first step in dying. This idle time, this _waiting_. He could only stay here so long, in the Infirmary or elsewhere, without doing anything productive and without going insane. And by "insane" he didn't mean "stir-crazy," he meant full-bore _losing it_ with violence and invectives. As long as he was on base, he was on duty; as long as he was on duty, he was at ready. The hours ticked by under Damocles' sword.

* * *

Daniel was the victim of bad timing when he ran into Jack after a particularly useless meeting with Hammond – yet another affirmation of the SGC's powerlessness. The work day was drawing to a close, shifts turning over and personnel heading for houses and apartments far removed from the impersonal base. Jack hardly waited for a greeting before obliquely airing his grievance. "_You_ can go home, you know."

Daniel shuffled. "I know. I just feel like I ought to be here."

_(What kind of misguided whatever is he off on now?)_ Jack wondered. "_I_ don't even feel like I ought to be here."

"Exactly," Daniel said.

Jack blinked. He'd picked up a few key phrases of Jacksonese, but the nuances often escaped him. In some world, that exchange had made sense. He suspected that world terminated at the inner edge of Daniel's skull. "Seriously. Go home. Or at least get some fresh air."

"I've had some fresh air."

"_Earth_ air!" Jack snapped before he could temper his response. Daniel's eyes widened, and he stared as if Jack's eyes had glowed. Warning bells went off in Jack's mind. _(Dammit. Yes, this is exactly what you need to do right now. Blow up at people. See how long it takes for Teal'c to come and kick your ass back to the beta site!)_

"I think–" Daniel started.

"Well, _stop_ it!" _(I'm sure you're trying to help, but it's not helping!)_ "If you can get out of here, go. If you need something tell me, and if not I would very much appreciate some time to myself, _goodbye_."

He stormed off down the hall, leaving Daniel to gape after him. _(So that was the totally wrong thing to do,)_ his brain caught up. _(But what the goddamn hell isn't?)_

He would have taken anything over this.

* * *

By the time he got into the Infirmary late in the day, he'd run down the list of Fraiser's Napoleonic epithets to the point where he had trouble deciding on just one. He took a moment to compose himself before he stepped in, doing a fine impression (to his own mind) of a man who _wasn't_ about to kill anyone. Fortunately, this time, _le petit caporal_ didn't insist that he change into scrubs before she poked him full of holes. He could have written volumes on undergoing this procedure by now, if there had been enough to write volumes on.

As the medtech ran his tests, Jack thought of C4. C4 was a remarkably stable compound under any normal circumstance. Heat alone wouldn't detonate it. Pressure alone wouldn't detonate it. But when one combined heat and pressure–

That's what he felt like. Anger and frustration and inability to act formed a slow-smouldering rage wrapped up in his chest, and the mysteries of the day and Anubis' stubborn silence pressed down on him. One force or the other could give, or he could explode. And when that happened, he'd have no capacity to control it; if he didn't destroy himself, he'd certainly injure others. Teal'c would have his hide, and the wreckage that was SG-1 would fall apart completely.

"Your blood count is looking better," Fraiser said at length. Again.

"How much better?" Jack asked.

Fraiser looked at him, seeing as much with a visual survey as all her equipment could tell her. "Enough to release you," she said – and held up a hand before he could react. "Again, I point out that this is a _latent phase_. Because your immune system was damaged, over the next few days you'll start coming down with illnesses. You'll be more prone to infection." She looked at him sternly. "I'm going to let you go home because I think that will be a better environment for you, but I expect to see you here for a checkup as soon as you come on base _and_ right before you leave, every day. Is that clear?"

_(...__**thank**__ you.) _"Crystal," Jack said.

"I'll also arrange a driver for you," Fraiser said, giving him her classic _Don't even think about arguing_ glare. "To and from your house."

"Is that really necessary?"

"Would you like to go home?" Fraiser asked.

Jack threw up his hands. "Fine. Is there anything else you'd like me to take? I'm sure somewhere around here I could find a bell to wear."

"Take it easy," Fraiser instructed. Tonight she wasn't about to get into a sparring match, verbal or non.

Jack looked through her, letting a tight-lipped smile cross his face as he grabbed his jacket. "Yes, _ma'am_."

He headed for the stairs out of spite.

* * *

Two levels above, Daniel caught up with him again. "Jack, _stop_."

Jack ground to a halt, turned, and cast a disparaging look back. Daniel was here to mend fences. Jack had neither the patience nor the time. "What?"

Daniel sidled, glancing around the hall. "...here," he said, hiking his thumb at Sam's former lab. By now it had been totally emptied, a desk and its chairs the only indication of previous use. "In here."

Jack followed on autopilot, taking a seat. "What?"

"We need to talk," Daniel said, quickly amending it to "_you_ need to talk" as he sat across from him.

"About what?"

"About this – about what happened, Jack." _(You're not an idiot and neither am I. Please, don't play dumb right now.)_

Jack shook his head. "No, I really don't."

"Yes, you _do_." Daniel tried to give him a knowing look, but it came out desperate instead. "Jack, it's not healthy not to talk about these things."

Jack raised both eyebrows. _(Hello, pot. This is kettle. I was just calling to say...)_ "Oh?" he asked, folding his arms. "I had to beat you over the head to get you to talk. Would you care to _remind_ me how many people you talked to after Sha're or Ke'ra or–"

"Then I should be uniquely suited to know exactly how unhealthy it is," Daniel shot back. "You've forced everyone else to deal with it, and you need to deal with it too."

_(By 'everyone else' you mean __**you**__, Daniel. Everyone else got it before I did. We're the last two to come limping out of this except maybe Jacob, and where's he off to now?)_ "What makes you think I'm not dealing with it?"

Daniel shot a stern look over his glasses. "Jack."

Jack looked him in the eye. "This is not the first time I've lost a member of my team," he said. "And barring divine intervention, it probably won't be the last."

"We're talking about Sam," Daniel said.

Jack's expression twisted for a moment into something that wasn't quite pain and wasn't quite amusement. Before Daniel had a chance to ask what it meant, it was gone, and Jack had moved on. "What do you want me to say? You being the expert."

"I don't know," Daniel admitted. "_Something_. Some – display of human emotion, at least."

Jack pushed his chair away. "You're going to have to do better than that," he said, standing.

"Jack–"

"If you'll excuse me, I have somewhere to be," Jack said. "_Home_. I have a date with a very deep bottle of Jameson's."

"I know for a fact you're not allowed to drink yet," Daniel said.

"So tell Fraiser," Jack shot back, knowing that, this time, he wouldn't.

Daniel stood, making it to the door before he did and putting an arm across the threshold. "Fine. Run off. Just tell me one thing."

Jack eyed his arm, debated pushing past it. But he was still feeling the effects of the radiation, and would not give Daniel a demonstration of how weak he still felt. "What?"

Daniel looked at him and through him, as if he was still Ascended and knew things Jack didn't know. As if he could look past every evasion, dispel every lie. "Are you going to be all right?" he said. He wasn't asking about the radiation. Or the whiskey.

_(Will I be all right?)_ He'd never stopped to consider. It usually wasn't an issue – shit happened, he dealt with it. He'd carried the scars for years. _(All right?)_

"Give it time," he said, and while it didn't make Daniel happy, it satisfied him. He took his hand off the door.

No further words were exchanged.

* * *

Jack's house closed around him like his own abandoned world.

He tossed his keys on the counter, letting the night sneak in through the cracks. He lived as far away from base as was practical – he enjoyed the solitude, respected the isolation. The world went on around him here. Owls would perch in the trees overnight, crickets would sing, and the moonlight could come in his window when he left the blinds open.

But most importantly, it was _his_. Removed from the clicks and hisses of the SGC, from Fraiser and her well-meaning staff, from protocol and regulation and duty. This was a civilian house, which neither conferred nor required respect. A house in which he could be something other than an Air Force Colonel.

That was something he needed more than anything, right now.

He walked to the liquor cabinet.

He wasn't naive. He knew how dangerous it was to mix alcohol with grief. But somehow, through chemical means or no, he needed to relax – just enough to take the black knot out of his stomach, to let him close his eyes.

If he'd asked Fraiser for sedatives she'd have understood. She might even have given him some instead of referring him to Dr. MacKenzie. But Colonel Jack O'Neill didn't ask for help from anyone – he'd soldiered on through Charlie, through Kawalski, through all the times they'd thought Daniel dead. He would soldier on through Samantha Carter. No one asked questions if he wound up here, from time to time, with a bottle in hand. No one had to know.

And to break that precedent now would be... unwise. Some critic with no respect for the dead would draw a connection that wasn't there – that couldn't be there, that they'd spent years ensuring didn't develop. A public display of grief could only tarnish her good name.

He poured himself two glasses. Then, on a whim, he poured a third and slid it across the table to rest in front of an empty chair. He locked the bottle back in its cabinet, put the key back in its drawer. Then he took a seat with his glasses, staring at the empty place setting.

Pragmatics. Everything boiled down to pragmatics. Why Carter had stayed on the planet, why he wasn't allowed to grieve. "You know," he remarked to the chair, "those were really your department."

It didn't answer.

He drank, draining one of the glasses down to a finger's width. Moderation be damned. _Pragmatics_ be damned. For a second he was intensely angry at her for leaving him here to deal with things, and then he hated himself for thinking it.

Three years ago, he'd said he'd rather die than lose her. Yeah, well. He'd rather a lot of things. He'd rather the winters were warmer and summers were cooler and weekends were longer and the Air Force had casual Fridays. The universe didn't give a damn for the preferences of one Jack O'Neill. If it noticed, it went so far as to spite him. He'd rather not have had to dance around his second in command, maintaining the polite fiction that they hadn't shared so much as a hint of affinity. And now–

"This is absurd," he said to the chair. "You're _dead_, and we're still stuck in protocol. ..._I'm_."

He could imagine her sitting there, staring awkwardly into her drink, answering in quiet _"Yes, sir"_s and _"Colonel?"_s. He snorted, and polished off his glass.

"That's okay, Major. You don't have to say anything." He looked across the table. "...I'm just talking to myself. Thinking out loud. You know how it is." _(Right?)_

After Daniel's ascension, she'd haunted his lab. She'd been the one to insist they keep his things, the one who had wanted a memorial, the one who'd hurt most openly. And very cautiously, carefully, within their regulated bounds, she'd been the one to offer him sympathy he hadn't allowed himself to take. She and Daniel together were incredible – they were SG-1's soul. Missing either meant half that soul was gone.

He picked up the second glass, eyeing "her" chair. No one could replace her. Someone – some egghead from one of the engineering teams, some Pentagon-approved physicist – would _take her place_, but that wasn't the same. SG-1 and the SGC had lost something incomparable. Something singular. Unique. Peerless. Inimitable. English didn't have enough synonyms to convey the scope of the loss – it could only treat her as if she was some snowflake melted away in the sun. That made for pretty images, but didn't approach the truth. She'd been a _masterpiece_, a wonder of the modern world, something manyfaceted and constructed painstakingly through trial and triumph and indomitable will, something unique and beautiful, true, but worth far, far more than a flake of fractal ice.

He raised his glass. "Well, here's to you, Major," he said, and drank. _(And here's to hoping you're in a better place, though I doubt it. I've died too, and I don't remember it being any better than this.)_

Whiskey didn't generally bring out his maudlin side. Most days, he was perfectly happy denying he had a maudlin side. But there was no use denying this now; he hurt, and he missed her. Truly, genuinely _missed_ her, not like a missing limb (wasn't that what everyone said?) but like a familiar place, a home destroyed or sold. Something in the world that had welcomed him. _(Something important long gone.)_

At least she didn't have to fight any more. Wasn't that what eulogists praised? At least the constant struggle was over – she'd face no more danger, no more pain, no more torture at the hands of the Goa'uld or injury at the hands of their minions. But he hated that "bright side," that evasion. No, Major Samantha Carter had been one of those rare few for whom life had been _worth it_. All the bad times, all the pain. She'd been able to find good in almost anything, or _after_ anything, at least. Had she found the good in this?

He shot back the remainder of his glass without tasting it. This was no toast – this was medicinal whiskey, and he held no illusions about that.

Once more, his mind drifted to thoughts of revenge.

Carter would probably not have considered this train of thought appropriate. Of course not – she was _nice_ person, rational, compassionate, as gentle as was possible within a military profession. She wasn't vengeful. _(Well, that makes one more reason she's a better person than me. I really don't care how petty it may be. I want Anubis to suffer. I have no idea how to make it happen, but I don't care. Somewhere in the universe, there's a way.)_

He cleared his glasses. None of that really mattered – tomorrow he'd ask Hammond to put them back on active rotation. Hammond wouldn't agree, not until Fraiser cleared him, but he'd ask anyway. _(Because when it's too hard to stand you stagger on forward and hope no one notices you're about to fall down.)_ For a moment he marveled at the dark poetry of his thoughts.

Sooner or later the sickness would end. He'd lead his team through the Stargate again, and somewhere in the galaxy they'd fight and maybe they'd die and maybe he'd be here to mourn them and maybe not. There was no other resolution.

He left the third glass where it was.


	7. Attack

Teal'c jolted from sleep and indistinct dreams at a siren's blare.

He was on his feet at once – he still slept seated instead of lying down – and into the hallway on instinct, moving through the early-morning shift workers and the SFs. _Offworld activation._ When he got to the stairwell he realized the siren hadn't cut out. This time, perhaps something would come through.

Halfway down the stairs a tech came onto the PA, paging him to the control room along with Colonel Reynolds. He launched into a jog, clearing the stairwell, disallowing any speculation but for what he needed to ready himself. The SGC had not been put on alert, and so they were not under immediate attack. Nor had the siren ended. A wormhole was still established, so either an ally had come through, or an enemy had established a persistent connection.

He made it to the control room before Reynolds did, and a tech greeted him. "Jaffa IDC, sir," he said, indicating the room below as the wormhole disengaged and the siren fell silent. A single warrior strode down the ramp. M'Zel.

"Thank you," Teal'c said, and took himself down the stairs without waiting for elaboration. The Free Jaffa had not parted company with the Tau'ri as poorly as the Tok'ra, but he had not expected to see M'Zel so soon. And M'Zel was not one for casual visits – he had committed himself to moving on without the assistance of the Tau'ri, and would not abandon that easily.

"Teal'c!" M'Zel exclaimed as he entered the room. "Tek'ma'tek. How fares the Tau'ri?"

"Well enough, for war," Teal'c answered. "Tek'ma'tek, M'Zel. For what urgent purpose have you come?"

"I bring dire news of Anubis and of his war with Ba'al," M'Zel said. "Many among the Jaffa feel it may be possible to deal a killing blow if we act quickly. It is an opportunity not to be ignored. Where is General Hammond?"

"It is night here, friend," Teal'c said. He glanced back – Reynolds jogged into the room behind him. "Many have returned home."

"We can call Hammond and SG-1 in, if you'd like," Reynolds offered. "They haven't been dragged out of bed at oh-dark-thirty for a while now."

"Then summon them," M'Zel said.

* * *

For some time, Teal'c had not understood the human need for sleep. Goa'uld did not sleep except to regenerate in the sarcophagus, and a trained Jaffa warrior was able to stop and restart kel'no'reem in moments should the situation require it. Waking for him had not been this long, drawn-out affair with its minutes or hours of returning to alertness.

Most of the military personnel he worked with could move quickly from sleep to waking – he'd often seen Colonel O'Neill and Major Carter react _from sleep_ with almost as much acuity as if they'd been lying sentry. But even they were not – _had not been_ – immune to the effects of sleep depravation, and Daniel Jackson had never shared their ability; when he and O'Neill dragged themselves into the briefing room a scarce twelve and nineteen minutes later, each one's fatigue showed despite valiant effort to hide it.

Hammond, perhaps a result of long experience, seemed only moderately tired when he stepped in, apologizing for the delay. Likely the most-recalled person in the base staff, he was well used to arriving long before the sun and had even stopped into the commissary with orders for a Lieutenant to bring a pot of coffee down. It arrived just after him, and the Lieutenant quickly placed the tray and mugs in the center of the table before excusing himself. Daniel took the initiative in pouring for everyone as the SGC representatives sat down, the entire process taking place with the shuffling efficiency of a faithful, but old, machine.

Hammond gestured to a chair, accepting his mug. "I understand you have intelligence to share," he said without preamble. Teal'c mentally commended him – M'Zel had no wish to exchange pleasantries. "Please."

M'Zel declined to sit. "Anubis has grown strong," he said. "Ba'al, commanding the combined might of the System Lords, is still not strong enough to challenge him. But an operative brought us word that, some days ago, Ba'al won a major strategic victory assaulting Anubis' flank. Anubis has been pushed from three systems."

Hammond gestured for him to continue. "This is the first we've heard of it."

"The defeat should not have occurred," M'Zel said. "But Anubis suddenly dispatched his First Prime, Herak, in a hok'ha'tak to a distant world."

"_Hawk_ ha'tak?" Jack asked.

"Advanced ha'tak," Daniel clarified. "I'm guessing those are his new class of ships – the big ones."

M'Zel nodded. "Our operative was unable to garner specific detail, but Herak and his crew perished. At that point Anubis himself withdrew from the front lines of his war with Ba'al to face this new adversary. The battle took him several days. Without his presence, his forces quickly succumbed to Ba'al's strategies. Only when Anubis returned could he staunch the loss."

Across the table, Daniel looked as if he'd swallowing a symbiote. Hammond frowned. "We appreciate this intel," he said, "but I have to wonder why you felt it important to bring it to our attention."

"From my time at the Beta Site," M'Zel said, "I remembered that the area of space Anubis withdrew to–"

"'542," Jack and Daniel said together.

M'Zel looked at them sharply. Hammond kept his poker face only through long experience. _(Uncanny, isn't it? You get used to that.)_

"PV1-542," Daniel said again, looking as if the symbiote had wiggled its way around his stomach. "Herak's hok'ha'tak was that first ship, the one the pulsar destroyed. Anubis came after that. He was _in_ one of those ha'taks watching us."

Jack made a face. "Okay. I could've gone without knowing that."

"So you did operate in that region," M'Zel said.

"For a bit."

"Then perhaps you know of Anubis' new adversary," M'Zel said. "If we could persuade them to bear their weight upon his forces–"

"Unfortunately, I don't think that's a possibility," Daniel said. M'zel looked to him.

"I do not understand."

"Anubis did not engage in battle," Teal'c explained. "Herak's ship was destroyed by radiation from a powerful star."

"...M'Zel," Jack began, leaning forward over the table and folding his hands together. "How did Anubis know anything was there?"

"We do not know," M'Zel admitted. "I do not believe any of our operatives has been coerced, even by Anubis' trickery. Nor," he said darkly, "have we heard of a Tok'ra falling to him, though as always their ambitions are hidden from us."

"Is it possible he could have run across the system on his own?" Hammond asked.

M'Zel looked as though he tired of the line of questioning. "I doubt it," he said. "His tactics led him to regions far from this system. General Hammond, whatever drew him there initially, surely this is of little consequence."

"Not necessarily," Hammond said. "If we could replicate whatever drew him off, we might be able to do it again."

"Anubis was so concerned about the pulsar that he sacrificed a strategic position," Daniel said. "If he does again–"

"Ba'al will sweep in to destroy his forces," Teal'c picked up. "All sides will be greatly weakened in the ensuing conflict."

Jack looked around the table. "...that would be cool," he offered.

M'Zel considered. "Many of our warriors can still access his ranks. I will take this information back to the council, and we will attempt to determine how to lure the beast. If a strategem can be swiftly found, I shall return." He bowed slightly, and left quickly.

"...don't forget to write!" Jack called after as he vanished down the stairs. Hammond made a move to follow, but not fast enough.

(_Jaffa_,) he thought. _(Well, he knows his way out.)_

Jack checked his wrist, realized he wasn't wearing a watch, and looked around for a clock. "I'm going to get food. Wonderful, commissary-issue, doctor-approved 'food,'" he sighed, and glanced at Hammond as if to say that life was really no longer worth living. Then he paused. "...actually, you guys want to go on ahead?" he said, directing the question to Daniel and Teal'c. "I'll be up in a minute. Daniel, grab a waffle for me."

Daniel looked at Teal'c. "Oookay," he said, drawing it out into a question. Jack didn't answer, and Daniel followed Teal'c out of the room.

Hammond waited until they were out of earshot before setting his mug back on the tray. "Is there something on your mind, Colonel?"

"Yes, there is, sir. I'd like SG-1 to be returned to active duty," Jack said.

Hammond pushed in his chair, quietly considering. "Jack, we don't know that the Jaffa will be able to put forth anything of real value."

"I know. That's not the point." _(The point is, there's only one direction we __**can**__ go from here. I'd rather go there than stay here.)_ "You can't sideline us forever."

"I can until Dr. Fraiser clears you for active duty," Hammond said.

"Yeah, I was gonna see her as soon as she checked in."_ (I wasn't expecting to be up this early.)_ "General–"

"Fraiser will decide," Hammond said, weighing finality into his tone. "Until then take it easy, Colonel. Take some time with your team."

He nodded. _(Yeah. Team time.)_ "Yes, sir."

* * *

"Waffle," Daniel said, depositing a plate in front of Jack as soon as he sat down. "They're out of coffee. I'm going to go steal some from the other room."

Jack quirked his head. "Didn't you already–"

"It's very early, Jack," Daniel said as he headed toward the door.

"...right." Jack sat carefully, taking the time to look his other friend up and down. "Teal'c. Buddy. You've been so quiet recently. ...and you're usually such a talker."

Teal'c expression might have been deadpan, murderous or unamused. In any case, it didn't change.

"How are you holding up?" Jack asked.

Teal'c barely acknowledged the query. "Well enough."

"Care to elaborate?"

"I do not."

"Right." Jack stabbed at his waffle. Teal'c rarely exhibited the classical hallmarks of grief – all SG-1 had witnessed (that they knew of) were Shaun'auc and Drey'auc, neither of whom occupied the same role in Teal'c life that Carter had. Teal'c had told _him_ that he could seek revenge. Jack didn't even know if he was sharing or deferring that responsibility. "How about Anubis?" he said – a stab in the dark, trying to elicit something.

"What of him?"

"A couple days ago you were talking about plotting revenge," Jack hazarded. "Any ideas?"

Teal'c meticulously peeled his orange. He'd withdrawn from the company of his friends to give them time to stabilize – to let them go through their peculiar patterns. In the Jaffa ranks, death was a codified occurrence. The expectations – both of the deceased and the survivors – had been frozen in Jaffa religious law. Solemn mourning and reserved conduct characterized grief. Systems stood in place to moderate conflict and direct actions and attentions.

Here among the Tau'ri, death threw chaos into the days and weeks following. A death changed everything – rituals were performed, but they were imposed onto the standing order instead of fitting within or forming it. Everyone about him concerned themselves with finding their own footing; _he_ already knew where he stood. O'Neill's concern, while it could be rationally appreciated, was nonetheless unwelcome – it neither acknowledged nor fit into his view of the world.

Under other circumstances, O'Neill's query would have honored him. In a way, it still did – a friend and a comrade in arms had asked for his alliance in a search for vengeance. But that had not been his purpose in asking.

"Were we able to strike at Anubis, we would have done so," he said.

Daniel took his chair again, mug already half-empty. "And now we may actually have a chance to," he said, picking up the tail of the conversation. Teal'c and O'Neill tacitly agreed not to fill him in on the body. This was a matter of private concern. "Do you think it's possible? Do you think we might actually be able to draw him off?"

"If we can, we can," Jack said, watching Daniel sit down to complete their little triangle. He frowned. How long since they had all been in the same room? Well – aside from the briefing. Aside from those other times that didn't count. He glanced across the table again. Why did this feel so new, so... strange?

_(It's because for a second there, I thought we were all together,)_ he realized with a start. _(All three of us? Since when did three start being 'all'?)_

He sliced the fork through the waffle, causing a squeal against the plate that set his teeth on edge. _(What, so that's it, then? I get to get used to the fact that we're all there is? Moving on over milk and waffles. And here I thought it might be profound.)_

_(Dammit – I can't take this. Either this is normal or it's not. I don't need this type of extended decompression – I need to be in it or past it, none of this... waffling.)_ He caught himself laughing. Daniel and Teal'c looked up.

"Jack?" Daniel asked.

_(Poor choice of words. I'm not going crazy.)_ He put down his fork. "O'Malley's," he said.

Daniel blinked, sliding a sidelong look at Teal'c.

"O'Malley's," Jack said again. "Tonight. Drinks. On me."

"What–" Daniel began.

"It is where we went after your death, Daniel Jackson," Teal'c informed him.

_(I wouldn't have put it that bluntly.)_ "O'Malley's," he insisted. "All three of us."

Daniel didn't say anything. His stomach had given an unexpected queaze, and his hand tightened on his mug. Experience told him that looking from person to person with a bewildered expression would get him as much explanation as trying to figure out what to ask – and he didn't trust himself to say anything, anyway. _(I don't think I want to know what you did after I died. I don't want to think of it.)_

But Jack had said all he intended to. After a few moments, Daniel set his mug down. "Do you think that's appropriate? I mean, now."

"Why wouldn't it be?" Jack asked, but his voice fell flat. "What's wrong with it? I bet you could tell me off the top of your head three hundred cultures you go and raise a glass in." He glared over his plate as if daring him to deny it.

Daniel drank his coffee.

"Teal'c," Jack said. "Come on."

"Perhaps another day, O'Neill," Teal'c said.

"What? Why?"

"I agree with Daniel Jackson," Teal'c said. "I do not think today is a fitting day for rituals of remembrance."

"It's not a _ritual_, it's just–" Jack looked across the table. "When's the last time we did something together?"

_(...never,)_ Daniel realized, a spike of panic racing through him. _(That's what he's trying to do. He's trying to mash us into a team and write Sam off. Is this how he copes with things? Cut losses and run headlong into whatever comes next?)_ He stared into his mug, watching the light flicker on the surface of his coffee. He didn't want to move on. He didn't want to give up hope – hope in _something_, hope in a miracle. But everything Jack had done, everything Jack was doing, was to drag him into that kicking and screaming. On the Beta Site he'd been able to say the words, believe them, even, without buying into them. At least, without buying into them to the exclusion of other possibilities.

Jack cut his waffle with more force than he needed. His mood had worsened. The situation had spiraled out of his control, if he'd ever had control of it. That shouldn't happen. It was _his_ team – he could manage them. That was what he did. He oversaw missions and campaigns, and yet breakfast in the mess was falling apart. "Teal'c, it's not that formal. We do things like this all the time."

_(No, O'Neill, we do not,)_ Teal'c thought. _(Whatever you may claim, this is a ritual. One which is unlikely to provide you with what you seek from it. Nor will you find such answers from us.)_ Had O'Neill asked directly for assistance, he would have provided it. But he hadn't – and, knowing O'Neill, he would never. And he would reject it, were it offered so plainly.

Across from him, Daniel finished his coffee. "'scuse me," he said, taking his plate. Jack surveyed it – Daniel hadn't taken much food, and had barely touched what he had. "I have some... stuff. In my lab."

"Hrm," Jack said, stabbing his waffle. Daniel escaped, leaving his plate on the conveyor. Teal'c continued eating, unhurried and entirely nonplussed.

_(Well, that went brilliantly,)_ Jack thought.

* * *

As soon as he'd finished his breakfast, Jack stopped in at Daniel's lab. Daniel hadn't started work on anything – instead he organized his desk, transferring materials from shelves and back again. A warning sign. Jack coughed. "Did I say something, or–"

"You're really not letting this out of your teeth, are you?" Daniel shoved his papers into a stack. "You really can't get away from this fast enough. If it wasn't for Fraiser you'd be off on missions again already. Drive on, leave everything in the dust. Is that what you expect me to do?"

Jack stilled. He no longer fidgeted or shifted, didn't gesture or look around. Instead he just watched, and only his breathing showed he was still alive. It took Daniel a moment to recognize the look in his eyes – it wasn't a common one, and hid behind a defensive blankness. That was pain, with a faint edge of betrayal.

For what seemed like a minute they stared at each other, neither one able to reconcile the emotion in the other's eyes. Daniel looked down first. "So I guess we have some problems," Daniel said. "If the three of us can't be in the same room together without... whatever just happened."

"Yeah," Jack agreed.

_(I just need to know this isn't the end of everything.)_ "And you have no idea how to keep everything from falling apart."

"Not really," Jack admitted.

"I'll come," Daniel said.

"What?"

"O'Malley's. Tonight. I'll come. I mean, hey, it's worked before, right?"

He risked a glance up, and saw his question had only made things worse. Jack's face had twisted. He cringed.

"Sorry."

"...I'm gonna go track down Fraiser," Jack said. "I'll see you later."

"Yeah," Daniel said. "Later."

* * *

The day progressed at a labored pace, limping through from hour to hour. SG-1 did not reconvene. M'Zel did not return.

Jack checked in periodically with his team – one-on-one, brief skirmishes performed more out of a sense of obligation than any desire to encounter them.

Toward the end of the day – another stiflingly unimpressive one – Jack poked his head into Hammond's office. "Fraiser's checked me out for the night," he said. "No word from the Jaffa...?"

"None at all," Hammond said.

"Those kids," Jack said. "They move out, their calls get shorter and shorter..." He stuck his hands into his pockets. "I'm heading home. Get some stuff in order. Daniel and I are going to O'Malley's later, and I think I've got Teal'c to meet us there. But you know, there's always an open seat if you want to join...?"

Hammond smiled. He appreciated the invitations – regarded them as an honor, in point of fact – but would never accept. As long as he was present he would be The General, their CO, and they would be on duty whether they were or not. "Thank you," he said. "But you go on. I was looking forward to an early night, in any case."

* * *

The O'Malley's waitress had already seated Jack and brought out his drink when Daniel arrived, coat folded over one arm. Jack waved from his table, and Daniel excused himself as a waiter intercepted him. He picked his way through the seating area, pulling out a chair. "Hey."

"There's _one_," Jack said. "Did T follow you out?"

"He said he'd be by in a bit," Daniel said. "Didn't say how long. I think he was going to try to get in some meditation."

"Of course."

The waitress came back, and Daniel waved off the menu. "Iced tea," he said.

"You got it," she said, and headed back off toward the bar.

"_Iced tea_?" Jack asked, with about four times as much incredulity as the situation deserved. "You don't want something a bit stronger? Whiskey, maybe? Or scotch?"

"Tea is fine," Daniel said.

"You don't want to consider a cocktail of some sort? Maybe a martini? Some shots?"

"No, I–"

"Nice mug of beer?"

"Jack, I really don't want to get drunk right now," Daniel said.

"There's something very wrong about reminiscing over tea," Jack said. "Tea makes a weak toast. You need something with some heft to it."

Daniel shook his head. "I'm parked outside," he said. "I'm guessing you took a cab?"

"Walked," Jack said.

Daniel looked disapprovingly over the rim of his glasses. "Jack–"

"Of course I took a cab," Jack said. "And of course I'm not going to have more than one drink and of course I'm just generally acting like Fraiser's aimed a spy satellite at me. I'm on my best behavior."

"Uh-huh." Daniel wasn't convinced.

The waitress returned with Daniel's tea, and they trailed off until she'd left again. They'd developed a feel for how softly and vaguely they needed to speak in public, but it was easier when no one stood in earshot anyway. Jack usually made sure to ask for a seat set off from other patrons, and for whatever reason, the wait staff usually found one for him. Who knew – maybe they'd just become inured to weird folk coming out of Cheyenne Mountain.

Daniel took his glass, staring at the condensation as if it would tell him how to proceed from there. Eventually, he raised it. "To Sam."

"To Sam," Jack agreed, raising his own. "...I have this image of back when you two met, stuck in my head. In the cartouche room." He tilted his glass, studying the alcohol. "At one point Kawalski looked over and I think he was thinking of shooting you both."

Daniel nearly snorted his drink. "Yeah, well, that wasn't really rare for you guys, was it?"

"Are you kidding?" Jack jibed. "I still want to shoot you sometimes."

"I was a bit confused, really." Daniel thought back. "You guys gave me such a hard time, I had _no_ idea why you'd want to hang around with another scientist."

"I didn't," Jack said. "Not at first, anyway. Hammond stuck her on the team and wouldn't let me kick her off."

"And I imagine you tried."

"Oh yeah." He shook his head. "You should'a been there. That was probably the rockiest briefing I've ever been through, and not just because Hammond didn't like me back then and Samuels was trying to shut down the program. No, they decided I needed some Pentagon labcoat to be the brains of the team, and I didn't exactly agree with that."

Daniel smiled. He knew how vehemently Jack could "not exactly agree."

"That," Jack pronounced, "is what we call Murphy's Law in action. I don't think I could have a worse briefing if I tried. ...kinda fun, in a way." He smiled. "I called her 'Doctor' at one point and she came at me so fast I thought I wouldn't be able to sit down for a week. 'It is appropriate to refer to someone by their _rank_, not their salutation_,_'" he said, doing a fair impression of Carter snapping. "She also challenged me to armwrestle."

"You're kidding me," Daniel said. "Sam?"

"I tell ya, for a while I thought I'd be spending the entire mission butting heads with this pressed-and-protocol posturing... _scientist_," he ended, unable to find a better epithet. "I think once she'd convinced us she was tough enough, she dropped the act, went back to being herself." He found himself smiling into his glass. "You should have seen her when we turned on the 'gate. It was like giving a kid a pony, multiplied by about ten thousand times."

"I think that's what I'll miss most," Daniel said. "I dunno. The world Out There just doesn't seem as interesting without her. She was the only person I knew who could make the DHD seem... exciting."

Jack snorted. "Carter's Wormhole Explanation of the Week."

Daniel laughed into his cup. For months Jack had pestered her, off and on, with decreasingly serious questions about how the wormhole worked. It had taken her some time before she realized he was in it for the fun – seeing how many new and novel ways she could find to explain, to try and get the information to stick in her CO's skull. Eventually she'd written up a treatise, outlining every basic aspect of wormhole travel in the simplest possible language complete with diagrams. He'd come in to work one day to find it tacked to his locker. "You know," Daniel said, "I think we still have that pamphlet in the base library."

"You're kidding me," Jack said.

"Dr. Felger titled it 'wormholes for dummies' and Sergeant Grant took it home and bound it," Daniel said. "She says it's been a very useful tool in training new recruits."

"Remember that book on wormhole physics she wrote when we were on those atunik armband things?" Jack asked. "She got that thing up to – what? Three thousand pages?"

"Twenty-six hundred."

"_Twenty-six hundred_." Jack shook his head. "And it wasn't even finished, was it?"

"I think it was finished," Daniel said. "Just not... complete."

Jack blinked.

"...she hadn't proofed it," Daniel clarified. "What, three years, and she never had the _time_." He set down his glass.

"Time," Jack repeated. It all came down to time – time to evac, time to get out. Her time had been stolen from her. She'd left so much undone.

"Time," Daniel repeated after him. "Time... time _travel_. Nineteen sixty-nine? Only Sam could have gotten us out of that one."

"Solar flares," Jack agreed. "Coronal – something. Mass emissions." He drank. "You wouldn't think I'd be able to forget that, given that I spent three months learning it."

"Yeah, well, how much Latin do you remember?" Daniel jabbed.

"Mostly I remember you freaking out every time I translated something."

Daniel shrugged. "From my perspective, it was ten hours. I really wasn't expecting you to suddenly become versed in Classical Latin."

"Yeah, Carter wouldn't leave me alone for about a week after that, either," he said. "So many questions about the time inversion, the 'gate beam, that damn whack-a-mole altar dealie."

"The geomagnetic storm," Daniel put in. "I don't know how anyone could get that excited over ionization in the atmosphere, but she did."

"The mimic crystals. She sent three requests my way to take them to Stanford," Jack put in.

"Your homemade Ancient power source."

"The black hole at P3W – whatever."

"451," Daniel finished for him. "You people had me scared back then. Two weeks without being able to dial into Earth. I thought Apophis got you."

"He didn't, though," Jack said. "We got him a couple of times. Vorash?" He couldn't help grinning. "Leave it to Carter to blow up a _sun_."

"Yeah; that was one of her flashier moments," Daniel said, with an answering grin. "I guess she wanted to show up Bauer and that weapon that blew up a planet."

"Naqahdriah," Jack said. _Speaking of weapons that blow up planets._ Then he caught himself; realized what he'd said. "...you weren't around for the naqahdriah."

Silence descended.

"She tried so hard to save me," Daniel said. "I remember she brought out the healing device – she didn't know how to use it, but she tried anyway. Then later, when I was dying, she came in and talked to me..." he trailed off. "She gave me credit for things I think she found on her own. I think the things she thought she saw in me – they're what everyone else saw in her."

Jack scanned his face with a practiced eye. Daniel's humility wasn't born of politeness or social custom – death and Daniel had an odd relationship, and his perceptions could become so entangled that even his perceived logic took a while to find. For Daniel, bizarrely, death brought out the best in people. Every sacrifice became a saint. Before his ascension, bleeding in the Infirmary, he'd told Jack that his life was no more valuable than anyone else's. And how could it be, when he valued everyone else's so highly – when he would, had, _did_ die for people he didn't even know? And if that was the case, when the death was a close friend...

Jack chewed, trying to turn the conversation back. "The naqahdah reactor," he said. "I think she built that thing out of spare parts, and it still managed to work, first try."

"Third," Daniel corrected absently. "Merrin tried to fix it for her, but she wouldn't let her." He smiled wanly. "Thrill of discovery."

"Saving the Asgard in general," Jack said.

"Leptons," Daniel put in.

"K'Tau's sun."

"The cartouche."

"Those things in the giant pyramid."

Daniel looked up. "Those were the leptons, Jack."

"I knew that," Jack lied.

Daniel finished off his drink. "...the pulsar."

"The pulsar," Jack repeated, and the exchange spiraled into darkness again.

Jack's cell phone rang.

Half on instinct, he pulled it from his pocket and held it up. "Teal'c," he read, opening the phone and raising it to his ear. "Maybe he feels like telling us why he's late," he muttered. "Hello?"

Teal'c's voice came through, recognizable but indistinct from where Daniel sat.

"What?" Jack asked, and a moment later stood. "Yeah. No – we'll be right there."

"What?" Daniel asked, standing on instinct as Jack hung up. "What is it?"

Jack flipped open his wallet, shelling out more than the drinks were worth and leaving it on the table. "We have to get back to the SGC, _now_," he said, pulling Daniel along. "You drive."

"What's going on?"

"Nobody knows," Jack said.

The significance struck him. "Anubis?" he asked.

"_Nobody knows_," Jack said, steering him toward the door. "Come on, let's move."

* * *

"I should just move in here," Jack announced, stalking into the control room and casting a disapproving look over the occupants. Teal'c and Siler waited for him, the former standing protectively over the techs as if the atmosphere would attack them. "Not like I can ever get away. What's up?"

"The SGC has fallen under attack," Teal'c said. "Several of the gateroom guards have been injured."

"When? How? By whom?"

"About fifteen minutes ago, we don't know how, and we don't know who," Siler said. "But we think it came through PV1-542."

"What?" Daniel asked.

"A wave of gamma radiation came through the 'gate. Looked like the tail end of a pulse. A lot made it through even with the Iris closed."

"Are you saying Anubis moved in?" Jack demanded.

"If Anubis has the pulsar base, then simply by establishing and maintaining a wormhole to this world he could inflict significant damage," Teal'c said. "However, this has not occurred."

"So exactly what did happen?" Jack asked.

Siler glanced from him to Teal'c and back again. "Exactly, sir?"

"Roughly. What's roughly happened?"

"A wormhole established, and a burst of hard radiation came through. The Stargate was charged, though nowhere near as severely as when Anubis used his Ancient weapon on us. During that time we couldn't use the 'gate or run it through a diagnostic. Now, it remained charged for about ten minutes before a massive energy wave travelled from the 'gate into the main computers, knocking out our first-tier systems. We've isolated the effected banks, but we can't interface with them at _all_ any more from the main system, and we're pretty sure all information has been destroyed, erased or corrupted."

"So we're definitely talking about an attack," Jack said. "A virus, or something."

"Well, anything I could say at the moment would be speculation, sir–"

"Then speculate!"

Siler looked to Teal'c. "It seems that way to me."

Teal'c nodded. "If there is natural or benign cause to this, it has yet to be discovered," he said.

"You said you isolated the computers," Daniel checked.

Siler nodded. "We pulled them away from the walls and everything. There's definitely something in there – the computer banks are putting out low levels of radiation – but we've done what we can."

"Radiation?" Daniel asked, slightly paler.

"Harmless amounts, sir," Siler reassured.

"But a lot more came through at first," Daniel said.

Siler nodded. "But we think that was direct from the pulsar, not a result of the anomaly." He looked to Jack. "What would you like us to do, sir?"

Jack's eyebrows shot up. "Where's Hammond?"

"General Hammond had not arrived home at the time we called him," Teal'c said. "We could only leave a message on his answering machine."

"And his cell?" Hammond so rarely had occasion to use his cell phone – almost all of the cell traffic through the SGC went to one of his subordinates. He usually had it on him, but it wasn't unheard of that he'd leave it off or even (albeit rarely) forget it in his office.

"There was no answer," Teal'c said.

Jack frowned. "For the record, I've had a drink today and I'm only in here because I thought the world was gonna end," he said. "I'll make the call if I have to, but can it wait until Hammond gets in?"

"I don't know that we're in immediate danger," Siler said. "But so far we haven't been able to predict what will happen or when. It went from the 'gate into the computers with no warning whatsoever."

_(He's deferring the decision to me. Great.)_ Jack shook his head. "What are we talking about here? What are our options?"

"One: we could wait to see what happens," Siler rattled off. "We don't know that anything will. We may have impeded the progress of this thing by isolating the computer banks. Two: we try to wipe it out with an EMP. This will definitely wipe the banks, if they aren't gone already. Three: we destroy the banks completely. I have no idea what that will do, but it _should_ ground or discharge the energy. Four: ...someone else comes up with something." He looked helplessly to Teal'c.

"Has it tried to communicate?" Daniel asked.

Everyone looked at him.

"...you don't know it's not intelligent, do you?" Daniel asked. "If it came from '542 – I mean, it's worth a shot."

"I'm sorry," Jack said. "Does anyone besides me remember what happened the last time we tried to talk to a virus?"

"Yeah, Sam got–" he stopped. "...Sam almost died." He exhaled. "So this time we'll wear thick rubber gloves."

"Siler?"

Siler shrugged. "We could hook up a monitor and try to access the banks. I don't think it would be able to travel through a monitor and down a power cord into the base's wiring, but it is a risk."

"How much of one?"

"I'd say slight, sir."

"Right. Well." Jack looked around the room again. "Why don't you get a monitor and a keyboard and meet us down there. And bring some thick rubber gloves."

"Yes sir," Siler said.

"T?" Jack asked. "You stay here. Keep an eye on things from this end and tell us if it looks like things are going wrong." _(Wronger.)_

Teal'c nodded. "I shall."

"Daniel? After you," Jack said, ushering them into the hall. He dropped his voice. "You're sure this is a good idea?"

"I'm hoping," Daniel said. "Why? You're not?"

"You're joking, right?" Jack hit the elevator callbutton. "I'm wondering if the fact that we're doing this calls my judgement into question."

"I don't think I've ever seen your judgement impaired," Daniel said. "Well, Argos. But that wasn't your fault. I guess."

"That's because I don't get drunk around you, Mr. One-Beer-Limit." The doors opened. "Hammond had to leave his phone off. The universe couldn't wait a few more days to go all crazy again."

They made the elevator ride in silence.

"You never said they were friendly, did you?" Jack asked.

"Who?"

"The star people. Did anyone actually say they were friendly aliens?"

"Well, 'willing and interested in communication–'"

"But not specifically with us. For all we know they could have called Anubis down on us and then sent a virus to finish us off."

Daniel cast a defeated glare at him from the corner of his eyes. "That's a bleak assumption."

"I'm not assuming anything. I'm just saying. You never know."

Another silence fell between them as they stopped outside the computer bay, waiting for Siler. Neither wanted to step in before they had to.

Siler didn't take long. He arrived a few minutes later pushing a cart – on which rested a monitor, several cords, a keyboard, a field scanner, and three pairs of gloves. He keyed in the access code and the door slid open, a faint chorus of hums and chirps greeting them from within.

Jack walked around the edge of the room, carefully avoiding cables as if they would lash out and sting him. "It's not plugged in."

"No, sir," Siler said.

"It's flashing and beeping."

"Yes, sir. The computers are on."

"Is that possible?"

"It must be drawing energy from the thing inside it," Daniel said. "Maybe it knows what they are. This could be a sign of intelligence."

"All right," Jack said, tugging on his gloves. "Siler? Go to."

Siler maneuvered the monitor into place on one of the lower banks, plugging in the series of adaptors and cables while trying not to actually touch the computers. After a moment of confusion with the power cord, he let it dangle and stepped back. "All yours, sir."

Daniel reached out gingerly, ready to pull back at a moment's notice. Quickly, he jabbed the monitor's "on" button and yanked his hand away.

The monitor flickered on, warming up its pixels from black to a flat slate-grey. A diagnostic screen showed up – not a system diagnostic, but a monitor diagnostic. Geometry, color and size.

Twenty seconds passed in silence.

The monitor shorted out.

Jack looked at Daniel. "Any more bright ideas?"

The computer banks began a low, rising whine.

Jack looked back at it, wary. "Siler?"

"Radiation is climbing," Siler read from his instrument. "Still negligible, but–"

A bolt of lightning roared from one bank into the wall, shooting within an inch of Jack's head. He jumped back, grabbing Daniel and hauling him doorward. "Siler! Out! Now!"

Three more bolts hammered into the ceiling and walls as they fell back, Siler hitting the emergency-shut on the door as the hallway lights flickered. From inside the room the bolts continued, the sound of their impacts and the smell of ozone passing beneath the door as it hit the ground.

His radio clicked. _"O'Neill,"_ Teal'c said. _"Energy is fluctuating near the computer core. What is your status?"_

"We just nearly got fried," Jack answered quickly. "If this thing is smart, it's sure not friendly." He looked from Daniel to Siler, both of whom looked more than a little freaked – understandable, since he did too. "Radiation?" he asked.

Siler looked down. "Higher than it was, but we should be fine, sir."

"Yeah, well, let's not take any chances," Jack said. "Infirmary. Now." He hit his radio as he headed down the hall. "Teal'c. Any luck with Hammond?"

_"General Hammond will be here in twenty minutes,"_ Teal'c said. _"He has advised us to take any action to prevent the anomaly from compromising the base."_

The lights behind them dropped entirely, flickered back on, and cut out again. Jack cast a glance back over his shoulder. "Teal'c, whatever it is, it's not contained. At the very least it's messing up the lights in this hallway. Blast doors are down and nothing's plugged in, but it can probably still cause us problems, and I mean massive ones."

From the other side of the line, Teal'c considered. _"Then you must destroy it."_

"That was my thought too." He sighed. "Siler? Soon as the doc clears you? EMP that thing." He looked to Daniel, ready to defend the decision. But Daniel didn't protest. "Teal'c? Get the EMP ready with Siler. We're knocking this thing out."

_"Understood."_

Jack looked to Daniel again, still waiting for the argument. It didn't come. _(...okay. Note to self: check on that.)_

They doubletimed it down the hall.

* * *

By now the act of having his blood count taken hardly registered in Jack's mind. It didn't even seem strange that it had become so routine. If he noticed it at all, it was as something not worth noticing – of course they'd been exposed to radiation. Of course the doctors and nurses and medtechs would be checking in on them again and again and again, measuring how close they were to dying. The surprising thing wasn't the frequency, it was that no one had issued them personal dosimeters yet.

Daniel didn't do so well. He weathered the examination – one didn't remain on SG-1 for long without learning to put up with the SGC medical staff – but the way he held himself showed clearly that he only weathered it physically.

"Daniel?" Jack asked.

Daniel closed his eyes, rocking back and forth at the edge of his seat. "I hate radiation," he said. "I really, reallyhate it."

"Join the club. We had shirts made." Jack leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I have to admit, I expected you to put up a fight."

"About what?"

"Using the EMP."

Daniel exhaled. "Why'd I do that?"

"Because you usually put up a fight when I want to blow stuff up." _(Especially when we don't know what it is.)_

"Yeah, I do, don't I?"

_(Okay, playing this takes way more skill than I have at the moment.)_ "What's up, Daniel?"

Daniel looked at the floor past his feet. With Sam's death, this new assault, and Anubis' perpetual presence at the periphery of everything the SGC did, what he wanted more than anything, for himself and for those around him, was to be safe. What they did was full of risks; he held no illusions about that. But he couldn't take much more damage. Logically, he knew the world was no more dangerous today than it had been yesterday, but viscerally, he wanted to cut out all the risks he could.

Jack's role was to protect his team. Daniel argued against it when he thought it wasn't their paramount concern. He wouldn't stand in the way of it now.

"I trust your judgement," he said.

"Since _when_?"

Daniel eyed him over the top of his glasses. "I trust you, Jack. I usually don't agree with you, but I trust you."

"Interesting line," Jack said. A shadow darkened the doorway.

"The EMP was not successful," Teal'c said.

Jack leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Not at all?"

"It seemed to have no effect," Teal'c confirmed.

Jack glanced at Daniel. "Well, I wasn't really expecting that to work. Hammond?"

"He should arrive shortly."

"In the mean time, what's the damage?" He peered into the hall. Siler was absent. _(Well, that could be good or bad.)_

"The computer banks have been rendered inoperable. Sergeant Siler is overseeing the implementation of our first-level backups."

"Is that wise?"

Teal'c's expression barely changed – a faint edge of resignation crept into the line of his mouth, pulled itself into his eyes. "I do not know."

Jack blinked slowly. At least Hammond would be in soon. He could decide. It might have been the alcohol (unlikely), the late hour (even less likely), or just his own futile attempts to fix things (entirely possible – both the situational problems of the SGC and the internal problems of SG-1), but he felt woefully ill-equipped to deal with the situation. Of course, Hammond would order the actions he felt necessary. Siler would do all he could.

_(But the person we __**need**__ working on this...)_

Standing above him, Teal'c wore the same expression, albeit muted to a Teal'c level. Daniel looked tired. Just tired.

_(Yeah. None of us have a clue what to do here. It's out of our league. We need some genius technical insight and that's not our job.)_ SG-1 had become an entity in its own right: while individually they often found themselves working at crosspurposes, as a unit, as a team, they'd been unstoppable. Each knew each other's strengths, and could defer to them. Now was time to defer to Carter.

Only one problem with that plan.

Daniel leaned forward, studying the back of one hand intently. Jack picked himself up. _(Okay. Now that I know I've personally screwed things up as far as they'll screw, time to stop feeling sorry for us all.)_ "I'm going to stay on hand, just in case," he said. _(And it's not as if Teal'c has anyplace outside the SGC to run off to. Which means that Daniel won't be leaving either, but I should at least give him the option.)_ "Daniel, if you want to head home–"

"No, I'll stay," Daniel answered. "I can check on Dr. Daggart's work. Maybe there's something in the translations."

_(It probably won't help us at all, but at least it's something to do.)_ Jack nodded. "That'd be good. Teal'c?"

"I will return to the computer level," Teal'c said. "If it becomes necessary to destroy the computer banks, it would be best to do so as quickly as possible."

"Right. Be careful." Jack stood up. "I'm going to go meet Hammond. Call if you need anything."

Heart in his stomach, he headed for the door.

* * *

Daniel stepped into his lab, starting up a pot of coffee automatically. He didn't think of the affair as stretching into an all-nighter – for what he could do, time was probably not a factor. But he didn't think he could sleep. Too many things jammed themselves into his mind – Anubis, M'Zel, the virus, Sam's absence. A sick knot came to his stomach when he thought about them. He couldn't help feeling that the only reason the world hadn't crumbled under its own complexity was that things were so tangled, no single issue had enough weight to topple the whole.

He turned on his computer, swiping a paper towel across the inside of his mug as it booted up. _(I'll scan over what Daggart's team translated first,)_ he thought. _(Then I'll start in on some of the minor records they sent back with Jack the first time. I really wish they'd had the time to copy out some of those major files from the comm room... some insight into crazy energy things would come in handy about now.)_

The lights in the hallway flickered, followed by the lights in his lab. He stopped, setting down his mug. _(Uh-oh,)_ he thought. Was the interference spreading? To this level, or through it? _(...I had better report this.)_ He reached for his phone.

His monitor exploded.

A bolt of energy roared out, tearing through him and throwing him back. Images flashed above the sound of his scream, above the shattering porcelain mug, reeling from his earliest memory in increasing detail through his time at the SGC.

He saw Sha'uri, pulling off her veil that first night on Abydos. He saw Apophis, taking Amonet's hand. He saw Sam, walking with him on Cimmeria – saw the rotating texts in Heliopolis. A mirror shimmered and threw him across universes. A sarcophagus closed above him. He delivered last rites to Apophis's dying host, kissed Ke'ra in her quarters, held his wife's son once – fought Osiris in his temple, sat with Teal'c by his deathbed, felt the twisting heat of a healing device misused as Sam tried her hardest to save him. He saw the pulsar flash, saw fire rain upon him as Jack pulled him to the ground and the world fell apart.

It should have taken a lifetime to re-live. It didn't. It shot through him in half an instant, and when he hit the wall it was gone.


	8. Entity

_(...ow.)_

Daniel opened his eyes a crack, which proved to be a crack too far. He had a basic understanding of how light could be perceived as a particle or a wave. His physics texts had apparently left out that in select circumstances, it could also be perceived as a Goa'uld pain stick inserted directly into the eye socket. He felt medicated – he'd had enough painkillers in his career that he could almost identify _which_ they'd put him on – and that only made the situation more unfair.

"...engh," he managed.

"Daniel!" Jack could as well have been across the room; it still sounded like he was screaming in Daniel's ear. Daniel winced – _(Yes, definitely some sound sensitivity there.)_

"Could you maybe keep it down a little?" he asked.

Jack leaned forward, dropping his voice to a whisper which put it on par with a sonic boom. "Sorry."

_(I think I woke up too soon. Does anyone mind if I pass out again?) _"How long have you been sitting there?"

"About, uh," Jack did the math in his head. "Three hours?"

Daniel moved one hand to his forehead, which didn't help. He tried to bring his other hand up, but couldn't – partially because that arm had been immobilized, partially because as soon as he tried a white-hot pain stabbed up from his shoulder and nearly blacked him out again. "Aaagh... what happened?"

"I was gonna ask you," Jack said.

"You were attacked by the entity," Teal'c said.

Daniel blinked, moving his head very carefully so the debris piled precariously where his brain should have been wouldn't crash. "Teal'c?"

"I am here."

"Entity?" Daniel asked.

"The eggheads on Level 19 say it's acting intelligently," Jack said. "We still don't know what it thinks it's doing. So far we don't know how to get rid of it, either."

"Aside from those it injured at its arrival, you have been its only casualty," Teal'c informed him.

_(...yay?)_ "Well, I'll have to thank it for that... dubious honor," Daniel said, closing his eyes. The torment fell to a more manageable level. "What happened to my arm?"

"Your arm is fine. Well, some bruises. It's your collarbone," Jack said helpfully.

"The entity is able to manifest great force," Teal'c told him.

"It threw you across a room, Daniel. You're lucky you didn't wrench your neck."

_(Yes. Lucky.)_ Something struck him. That Jack would be standing over his bed was a given – the man made a point to be there when anyone under his command was knocked out. Teal'c, on the other hand–

Belatedly, his heart rate spiked. He could hear it echoed in the monitor above. He'd slipped into the old routines – wake up in the Infirmary, small talk with Jack, establish the crisis and move on from there. It had been enough to take his mind off what had happened, and now that he recognized that, he panicked. Not just for himself, but for everyone around him. "...I almost died, didn't I?"

Jack didn't answer, and Daniel didn't want to open his eyes. He couldn't see his friend's expression.

"You survived," Teal'c said, finality forged in his tone. "We have faced situations more dangerous than this."

It was one of Jack's lines – a throwaway line. Daniel took it with a deathgrip. "Yeah. We have, haven't we?"

"All the time," Jack said.

"Every few days," Daniel agreed.

"Like it's our job or something," Jack groused.

Hesitant confusion edged Teal'c's tone. "In fact it is a large part of our profession."

Jack's stool creaked. "..._right_," Jack said. "Of course. What _was_ I thinking."

Daniel laughed briefly, forcing it more than feeling it, adopting the gentlest form of hysteria. _(It is,)_ he realized. _(...we can't just 'play it safe.' We could go home and hide under our beds but even that doesn't mean Anubis won't come to Earth by ha'tak and burn everything to the ground. Nothing is safe. ...it attacked me from my __**monitor**__.)_

He rubbed his arm gingerly, fingers slipping over the weave of the sling. _(This is why the Stargate Program can't go public,)_ he thought. _(You know what's out there, and all of a sudden everything that seems so peaceful and ordered turns into this dangerous, chaotic mess and anything you can think of can kill you three or four times over. You want to go insane? Just think of all the ways any one thing could go wrong. No one would open their windows. No one would step outside.)_

With the thought came panic again – absolute, mindless certainty that they were going to die here, trapped in this mountain, on this rock of a world so very small as it floated in space. But it passed, and he braced himself on the Infirmary sheets. _(Life is tougher than you think, even when it can be so fragile. For the most part, we've made it this far. Now the challenge is making it through tomorrow. Making it through today.) _"What now?"

"We're open to suggestions."

"The entity has passed through the base," Teal'c said. "We seem unable to halt its progress."

"What's it been doing?"

"Well, that's an interesting question," Jack said.

"We do not know."

"It's gone in and out of computer banks, through some diagnostic equipment... it blew out a MALP a bit ago. Nearly broke our X-ray."

Daniel almost opened his eyes, but caught himself. "...wait. Go back," he said.

"To what?"

"Computer banks, a MALP, the X-ray – what else?"

"Lab equipment?" Jack said.

"Several of the physics laboratories on level 19 were invaded," Teal'c explained. "It seemed most interested in–"

"Learning," Daniel said.

A beat of silence followed.

"That's highly speculative," Jack said, cautiously.

"Well, so is anything at this point." Daniel shook his head, causing his headache to pinball between his temples. "I don't think it attacked me."

Jack's tone helped nothing. "How hard did you hit your head?"

"Apparently not hard enough," Daniel muttered. "Think about it. You said it blew out a MALP. We've already seen that it can 'manifest great force,' like Teal'c said. It's also totally impervious to anything we can do. If it wanted to attack me, I don't think I'd still be here."

A soft rustle of cloth. "Okay. _Maybe_ you have a point."

"Look what it's done. It's moved through all the things that seem like they might contain data. Computer banks, diagnostic equipment, our probes. My... brain."

"You believe the entity attempted to possess you," Teal'c gathered.

"When it passed through me, I saw images. Memories. Maybe it was trying to access them."

"Or maybe your life flashed before your eyes," Jack suggested.

"Or maybe it was trying to communicate. To learn about us. To find common ground."

"I see where this is going," Jack groaned. "You want to _talk_ to the unstable energy being."

"Well, unless you have a better idea."

"Oh, _no_," Jack returned. "I'm surprised I didn't think of it."

"Jack."

"Teal'c," Jack said. "Could we have a moment alone, please?"

Daniel deflated. He had a feeling what was coming next. _(How did __**I**__ get in trouble here?)_

Teal'c slipped from his stool, footfalls quiet on their way to the door. Jack waited until he was out of earshot – presumably eyeshot as well – and lowered his voice. "Daniel."

Daniel had to open his eyes. For this he had to read Jack's expression, his posture, his bearing. Fortunately the worst of his photosensitivity seemed to have passed – he had to squint, and his head complained, but the pain wasn't debilitating.

Jack wasn't always hard to read. Certain emotions were easy to spot, once one knew the signs – amusement, boredom, aggravation, pride. He only became guarded when he didn't want to admit to feeling something, or when to do so would compromise... something. When he was trying to protect himself, or others.

He'd donned an impressive mask now. A poker face to rival his _actual_ poker face, and he was no slouch at the game. Here, he thought the stakes were higher. Whatever he felt, he had to hide.

"So what's with this Stockholm thing you have going?" he asked.

Daniel couldn't follow. "Stockholm?"

"Would you to remind us what's _happened_ since we came across that planet?" Jack asked. "Or why don't I?"

"Jack–"

"First, a ship full of Jaffa die, though I guess I'd be lying if I said I really cared about them. Then Anubis crashes ships into us and Carter gets – wait for it – _vaporized_. I nearly get fried on my way out, two SFs also nearly get fried when that thing comes through, and how's your shoulder feeling?"

"I don't think it meant to–"

"Tell me again how that's supposed to be reassuring."

He couldn't.

"Nothing that's come from that planet has been good. Why do you expect this to be any different?"

"I don't expect anything," Daniel said. "But we should at least try."

"Why?"

"Because as far as I know, we don't have another choice."

Jack raked a hand through his hair. "...the eggheads are locked in with their computers," he said. "They're looking for a way to take care of it."

"And are they going to find anything? Since we found out about Anubis they've been trying to find something that can attack a noncorporeal being. Last I heard they had no idea."

Jack looked up, following the patterns on the ceiling. Daniel looked up as well, searching for what caught his attention.

Jack looked – to a trained eye – harried. They were stuck between a rock and a hard place, trapped in with no good options and no avenues of escape. Daniel understood his anxiety. _(Of course. The sky is falling and there's only us to catch it. Carter would solve this, easy.)_ He felt certain of that.

"I don't–" Jack began.

Footsteps alerted them to a new presence. Sergeant Siler appeared in the doorway, bad news written across his expression. "I'm sorry, sir. You wanted to be alerted if it moved."

"And I suppose it's moved," Jack said.

"Yes, sir. It's in the Stargate." Siler grimaced. "We can't dial out and as far as we know nothing can dial in. We're completely isolated."

"You should fix that," Jack said.

"I'm not sure we can, sir."

Jack glared.

"...I'll get right on it," Siler said, and left.

Daniel squared his shoulder. "We have no choice."

"There's always a choice," Jack said.

"Like what? We can't destroy it. We can't _make_ it do anything. We can't let it sit in the Stargate forever. How else can we possibly proceed?"

"You're thinking of this thing like a person," Jack said. "You're walking into this like a meet-'n'-greet."

"And why shouldn't I?" He stood his ground, though it felt about to give way. Soon the smooth concrete of the Infirmary floor would sigh and give up its grip on stable reality, sending them plummeting down toward Tartarus. "It's intelligent. Maybe we can come to an understanding. It's the only chance we've got."

"And if it's not interested in understanding?"

"Well, that's a risk. That's always a risk, wherever we go."

"Uh-_huh_." Jack ground his teeth. "And you're willing to take that risk. Right here, right now."

Daniel hesitated. His shoulder hurt despite the medication, and the space behind his sternum hadn't unclenched since that morning. Risks, calculated losses, the safety of the team – but it was true; they had no choice. No other option. He could easily admit that he was scared – not only of the entity, of the possibility of his injury or death, but of the possibility that his resolve now wasn't bravery. Maybe it was despair. Of finding another option, of being able to extract himself from the mess that had followed them from '542. Maybe this was suicide, and it seemed like the only choice because it seemed like the utter destruction of SG-1 was the natural result of this chain of events. A self-fulfilling prophecy. And maybe it made no difference at all. "Yes, I am."

"This thing is a weapon," Jack said. "It's dangerous, it's injured people, and maybe it's killed people. At the moment it doesn't matter whether it wanted to or not – it did, and there is _nothing_ to suggest it won't again. And I am not going to let you walk up to it and ask it to maybe kill you." He watched Daniel sternly, holding him to the words. "That's my job."

Daniel tensed, everything flipping around on him in an instant. "Jack, nothing says–"

"Everything says. I'm your CO." He crossed his arms. _(You think it's supposed to be easy? You know, right now, you're making a call on my life, and I have to let you. That's your job – and it's mine, and it stinks, and it's how things work. So tell me. Is it worth the very real possibility that you might order me off to my death?)_ "You're the closest thing we have to an expert. Make the call."

Daniel's free hand went to his sling again. All of his arguments still applied, but he'd lost the drive to argue them. _(This isn't fair,)_ he thought at Jack. _(You've had training for this. You can't expect me to play with someone else's life.)_

The same reasons he'd used to corner Jack now cornered him. He'd left himself no escapes. "I say we go through with it."

_(And make our peace with God.)_ Jack nodded. "I'll advise Hammond."

* * *

The briefing took place when Daniel could stand and walk again, after the heaviest drugs had worn off. He couldn't tell any more if it was late night or early morning, couldn't reconcile the day. As if the world were divided into days any more, instead of existing in one long cycle of crisis and crash. The SGC was trapped in a perpetual _situation_, and the euphemistic simplicity of the word repulsed him.

Hammond hadn't gone home, and it seemed unlikely that he'd slept. He and SG-1 settled into the briefing room like the walking dead – which was better than entering like the condemned, but only barely.

"We're waiting on Colonel Kovacek," Hammond told them. "I trust you briefed him, Colonel?"

"Yeah. He thought I was crazy. Not that I blame him," Jack said. He scratched through his hair again. "...what a day, huh."

"What a day," Hammond agreed. "I just got a letter from the President."

"Really?" Jack asked. "How's the old boy doing?"

"He's thinking about the end of his term," Hammond said. "And the Stargate Program."

A beat passed around the table.

"...that was supposed to parse 'he's thinking about both the end of his term and the Stargate Program,' not 'he's thinking about the end of both his term and the Stargate Program,' right?" Daniel asked.

Hammond smiled wanly. "In this instance, yes. But he is concerned about how historians will look on the program, and how that will reflect on him."

"So what?" Jack asked.

"This isn't the best time," Hammond said as the fifth man of the briefing stepped in. "Colonel," he greeted.

Lieutenant Colonel Stanley Kovacek, the man who had negotiated for SG-1's release from the prison Hadante, who had made his career negotiating trade, mining access, and minor alliances across the galaxy and had on more than one occasion been dispatched to smooth over minor (or major) indiscretions made by SG teams in the field, nodded to those already assembled and took his chair. "General. Colonel. Doctor. Teal'c."

"I trust you're aware of the request Dr. Jackson has tabled," Hammond said.

"Yes, sir," Kovacek said. "And to be frank, I'm not sure what input I can really provide. I have to say this is a little out of my league."

"You're the most experienced diplomat we have, Colonel," Hammond said. "And one of very few people here who focuses on first-contact procedure."

"Yes, sir, but with human cultures." Kovacek looked toward the gateroom. "I feel it's my duty to note that we have no idea how this thing thinks – if it thinks at all, in any way we'd recognize as such."

"Just what every ambassador wants to hear," Jack said.

"Well, if it is one of the pulsar beings, we know some things," Daniel pointed out. "We know it thinks. We know it communicated with the base's occupants."

"Assuming they thought in any way we'd recognize as such," Jack said.

Daniel exhaled. "Well, we can translate their language and use their technology. That usually counts for something."

"This is a bad idea," Jack said.

Hammond studied him. "If you don't think we should go through with this–"

"Given a better option, I'd say no, we shouldn't," Jack said. "But I'm not seeing a better option. Anyone else?"

Daniel looked down at his slung arm. "Jack, I can–"

"_No_." Jack didn't let him finish. "It's already thrown you across one room. Anyway, we need you to talk to it. ...I think I'm the _last_ person you'd want talking," he grumbled.

"All right," Kovacek said. "So if Dr. Jackson represents our interests and Colonel O'Neill–"

"Gets possessed," Jack put in. Kovacek skipped over the verb phrase entirely.

"That gives us a small delegation, which is I think a good idea. Teal'c–"

"I will stand guard," Teal'c interrupted.

"No, sir," Kovacek said. "I wouldn't recommend it. Not only do we not know if any of our weapons will have any effect, the fact that we display them may be taken as indication of hostility. In fact, I would recommend as few people as possible be in the gateroom. For everyone's safety."

"Dr. Fraiser insisted on standing by," Daniel said. "She's driving in now."

Hammond nodded. "Col. Kovacek?"

"If Dr. Jackson feels confident conducting negotiations, and Colonel O'Neill is willing to..."

"Get my brain scrambled?" Jack suggested.

"Jack," Daniel said.

"If Colonel O'Neill is willing to act as the entity's voice," Kovacek settled on, "I'll stand to assist Dr. Jackson. Dr. Fraiser can wait in the room or just outside. Teal'c, General Hammond, I think it might be best for you to monitor from the control room. The defense team would have to be withdrawn."

"Well, that shouldn't be a problem if the Stargate is totally shut down anyway," Daniel said. "And whatever this thing is, obviously our weapons aren't going to have any effect."

"Agreed," Hammond said.

Jack stood. "All right. That's that. Let's get this over with."

"As soon as Dr. Fraiser arrives, you have a go," Hammond said. "Good luck, Colonel. Doctor."

"Thank you, sir," Jack said. "I think we'll need all the luck we can get."

* * *

Getting everyone into place felt uncomfortably like positioning pieces to Jack. Setting up elaborate strategies in chess. Daniel was a more than competent player and he'd never personally played Kovacek, but he trusted that the Lieutenant Colonel knew as much about what he was doing as anyone could. And while Daniel's track record wasn't perfect, it was good enough. He'd just try not to think about the _other_ Entity. Or Reece. Or any of the other thousand times that Daniel's willingness to believe the best of people had skirted disastrous results.

He also tried not to think of the fact that, if this were a chess metaphor, he was undoubtedly the pawn.

Dr. Fraiser and an aide stood by with a gurney and a crash cart, their faith in "Plan A" apparently as low as his own. Kovacek straightened his fatigues, ready. "I guess it's now or never," Daniel said.

"Yeah," Jack said. "All right. We who are about to get zapped salute you."

He walked toward the Stargate's ring.

Even from the blast doors one could hear the entity's hum – a soft buzz traveling through the Stargate's massive capacitors. Tiny sparks hopped along the surface, leaping out of a slower, more formless glow; the air around the gate shimmered, ever so slightly, as if the naqahdah radiated heat. Tendrils and bolts arced smoothly across the inner span, forming a variable net.

Jack eyed it warily. He had no idea how to make contact. He hoped the entity did.

It reached out to him.

Tendrils unwrapped, flickering toward him. He stopped a few metres away, trying not to move or think or react. They played over his skin, static currents dancing along his nerve endings. He closed his eyes. _(Daniel, I really, really hope you're right about this,)_ he thought – and a bolt flew at him.

Energy closed around him like a fist, turning him around, spasming his limbs before settling past his skin. His eyes opened, but stared cold and blank and dead.

"...Jack?" Daniel asked.

Jack's eyes looked ahead, without tic or shift.

"Can you hear me?" Daniel asked.

Slowly, mechanically, Jack's head moved. His forearms raised. He looked down at his hands, then at Daniel. His mouth opened and closed, repeating the gesture again before words came out. "What are you?"

Jack's voice came through cold and flat and dead. The words didn't sound like words – they were just sounds, heard somewhere and repeated without thought for cadence or flow. Undoubtedly, the entity was aware of their meaning, but it didn't truly understand them. It just used Jack to translate. _Make this sound and they will know the question. These sounds mean they have answered._

"We're human," Daniel said. "The inhabitants of this world. What are you? Why did you come here?"

Jack's eyes focused for a moment, or seemed to. "You were on the cold rock," the entity said.

"The cold – you mean PV1-542? The pulsar planet?" Daniel nodded. "Yes. We were. We had to leave."

"Why?"

"We were attacked." It didn't escape his notice that the entity hadn't answered his questions. "Who are you?"

"Why did you leave – before," the entity asked.

"Why won't you answer me?" Daniel asked back.

"I cannot."

"What? Why not?"

Jack's eyes looked around the gateroom. "You are recurrent visitors to the cold rock which orbits our home. Do your records not mention us?"

"Wh–" Daniel looked back to Kovacek. "I'm sorry? You – do you think _we_ were the ones who originally inhabited that place? Because we're not–"

"Define. Explain."

Daniel stood at a loss. "We came to the planet for the first time recently," he said. "We found that someone else had been there a long time ago, but we never learned who they were or what happened to them. And our two races – our two civilizations, at least – have never met before."

The entity seemed to accept that. At least, it didn't ask for anything more.

"Why can't you tell me what you are?" Daniel asked.

"We are energy," the entity said. "Self-contained. Self-adjusting. Self-aware. They described us thus."

"You don't have a name, or..."

"Name."

Daniel shook his head. "A name. Uh... a means of identification, of reference. For example I'm Daniel Jackson. This is Stan Kovacek, the man you're... possessing... is Jack O'Neill."

"Your names are sound. Patterned modulation of a physical state." The chevrons pulsed. "We have no such external communication."

"Okay." He looked to Kovacek again. "All right."

Kovacek stepped forward. "What is your purpose in coming here?"

"Observe. Define." The chevrons dimmed and glowed again – with a start, Daniel recognized the pattern. It showed the same four-point-three second pulse as the pulsar. "In error."

"So your coming here was a mistake," Daniel put in.

"No."

"Could you elaborate?"

The chevrons quietly glowed.

Daniel crossed his arms. "Out of curiosity, what would happen if I asked you to relate the sum total of your knowledge?"

"Our instance which predates all others had no contact with the physical beings," it suddenly said. "You with your thoughts of duration would call this one our eldest. For durations they studied us. Our anticipation was to learn what they would discover. Unexpectedly they vanished. Our error was in assuming they had returned. Our error was assuming they were here. You cannot fathom the absence. You have no words to describe our loss."

_(What...?)_ Daniel looked up – into Jack's eyes, through the entity. Past it. _(Well, that's the great failing of words, isn't it? To describe the indescribable. The inarticulable. But I think we can fathom it. So you lost someone? As a race, as a society, you lost another race, close to you – someone you could learn from, someone who could see things you wanted to. Maybe we aren't so dissimilar.)_ He swallowed with difficulty. "You might be surprised."

"Dr. Jackson?" Kovacek asked.

Daniel glanced at him, but directed his words toward the entity. "We came to the planet – your cold rock – to learn. About you, your star, and the previous inhabitants. We wanted to contact you, but we couldn't. And then we were attacked." He looked back to the entity – if he read it right, it was considering. "I don't know if you'll understand the parallels or consider this the same, but when we left, we lost someone as well. A scientist. Someone who wanted to study. Who would have, given the chance."

The entity didn't answer.

"We're explorers," Daniel said. "That's what we do. We go to new places to learn – to study – new things.

Jack crumpled.

Daniel started forward. A thin filament of energy extended from the 'gate and he halted, forced himself to stand still. It passed through his chest, following his spine up to wreathe around his head. He felt warm – not the sick warmth of radiation or fever, not the gentle warmth of sunlight or summer air – just warm. Tiny electric sparks like pins and needles danced across his skin, cracking at the edge of audibility.

Images flashed in his mind.

_(This is what you were trying to do,)_ Daniel thought – as he saw the Stargate open, as he saw the halls on the base, as he saw the tel'taks, heard the sirens scream. He felt, like an echo, the fear of those moments – the tearing pain that followed as the Iris closed and the radio fell silent. The emptiness of the beta site surrounded him and he crashed again, passed back into the halls of the SGC. _(This is how you communicate. Without words.)_

Sensations followed – not his own. The raw power of the dancing sun. A cold marble in the force of its jets, floating in the vast expanse of empty space, the void on every side gaping into infinity. Thousands – millions – trillions of minds, locked in the solar fusion, cycling through genesis and dissipation. And within everything a deep and persistent _absence_ – that something unnamed, unknowable, should have existed within that reality but didn't. A wish to reach out – but where had it gone?

Another sense – a faint call coming up from the orbiting rock, plaintive and old. One mind parting company, riding down the pulsar's jets, passing through the cold marble, reaching out. Studying the Stargate, the wormhole like a pinprick in the fabric of the world. Learning to turn the symbols. Learning to find the stress lines, the recent fatigue in reality, letting the wormhole go where it would – where it had. To follow.

Traveling here, alone, isolated from the press of sympathetic minds. Trying to find order in the world – first in the Stargate, then in the banks. Realizing the minds of this world were not like the radiant beings on the star, but rather faint glimmers trapped in heavy matter, moving on their own volition. It saw. It followed.

He saw himself in his lab. Felt the entity reach out, unaware of its physical force – saw himself fly backward, the light of his mind eclipsed or extinguished. Felt fear – what the entity felt as fear. Swift retreat. To come, eventually, here, to settle into the Stargate, to wait. Somehow, in processes abandoned and forgotten, these things of matter and concrete form had spoken with the million-trillion minds. Somehow.

It withdrew, and the air seemed colder. Daniel didn't realize he was staring until Kovacek's hand landed on his shoulder, jolting him from his reverie. "Dr. Jackson?"

He was surprised to find a lump in his throat – a sympathetic anguish, some residue of inhuman grief. "I'm sorry," he said to the Stargate.

Light played across its contours in response.

"I think we could learn from each other," Daniel went on. "I think we could help each other, given the chance."

It made no move to respond, either by its own faculties or by taking Jack again. Daniel looked to Kovacek.

"I think–" he began. "I _think_ we understand each other. I think."

It flashed out of the gate.

For a moment the air charged white, snapping like lightning. Then it vanished. "Hey – no, wait!" Daniel called, moving to follow – but of course he couldn't. He spun to the control room, where Teal'c's eyes were riveted on the screens. "Where'd it go?"

"It is no longer in the Stargate," Teal'c said. "We do not read distortions in any other part of the base."

"But it–" Daniel began. He looked to Kovacek.

"That actually went better than I thought it would," Kovacek remarked.

Daniel didn't listen. With the entity's departure his mind hopped to the other concern in the room – Jack. Who still wasn't moving. But he'd been functioning well enough for the entity to pull language from his brain, so hopefully it hadn't injured him–

He met Fraiser on the ramp, reminding himself not to crowd. "Pulse and breathing are rapid but strong," Fraiser said. "I don't see any external indications of trauma. Colonel?" she asked. She pulled out a penlight and pried one eye open. Quickly checking his pupils, she breathed easier when he winced at the light.

"Nng," he muttered, pressing his eyes closed and opening them again, one hand sluggishly fending off the penlight as he tried to rise. Daniel caught him, helping him sit up. "What happened?"

"You were possessed by the entity," Fraiser said.

"Was that what that was?" He brought a hand to his forehead, still blinking and unsteady. "I. Have. The. _Mother_ of all hangovers," he pronounced. He looked at Daniel, drawing his head back and trying to establish focus. "...Daniel," he said, with exaggerated gravity. "Were you _always_ green?"

"Okay." Fraiser took his elbow. "Let's get you to the Infirmary, check you out there."

"What? Again?" He groaned, shaking his head. He looked around the gateroom, up at the ceiling. "...what happened?"

"I'd say you're a little disoriented," Fraiser said. Her aide wheeled the gurney over, and quickly replaced Daniel at the Colonel's left hand. "Can you tell me what day it is?"

Jack made it halfway up and tried to sit down again. "What day is it?"

"Who's the current president?" Fraiser asked.

Jack growled. "I have some questions for him," he agreed.

"Well, I don't think there's any real damage," Fraiser told Daniel. "Disorientation, a bit of neural shock. We'll run some tests to make sure, but initially it doesn't seem much worse than a Goa'uld stun grenade."

"Was that what that was?" Jack asked, still trying to sit up as the aide tried to lay him down.

Daniel followed at their heels as they pushed the gurney into the hall, trying to tamp down the urge to assist. Given his own state, one arm in a sling and attention divided between too many things, he would only get in the way.

They approached the elevator doors as they opened, discharging two techs and an obviously civilian scientist in a brown jacket. "Well, I just got _in_," the scientist snapped at one tech, shouldering past Fraiser and her aide. "When I develop the ability to instantly know what the Stargate is up to I'll be sure to let you know, but for now, I'm going to need a little more time."

Daniel whipped around as they passed, staring after them. That, undoubtedly, was the SGC's newest resident astrophysicist. The man to replace Sam.

He looked back after Jack and Janet, torn between following them and returning to the control room. He decided as they entered the elevator – he'd be there soon enough. He needed to know this. He retraced his steps down the hall.

In the control room, the replacement had already slipped into Sam's diagnostic chair, opening programs and readouts. Daniel stopped short. "...I know you," he said.

The man glanced up, devoting the minimum attention needed to answer. "Ah, Dr. Jackson. I'd heard you were back from the dead," he said, as dismissively as one could when talking about resurrection.

"...you're they guy who almost got Teal'c killed!" Daniel said. "Dr. McKay!"

McKay returned his attention to the screen. "Can we maybe wait on that argument? I have to fix your Stargate."

"What are you doing here?"

"The Pentagon thought you needed help," McKay said. "It looks like they were right. And since I am, at the moment, the world expert on the Stargate, I'd think you would be glad to have me."

McKay's tone made Daniel want to slink out of the room, made him unnaturally defensive. "Well, as long as you're working here, you should probably remember that it's your Stargate too."

"Much as I'd love a grammar lesson, this really is quite important," McKay said, tapping the screen. "So unless you'd care to fill me in on the frequency displacement in the control crystals?"

Daniel wanted to strike back with something – strike in self-defense, perhaps. But he didn't know how. What he wanted to defend himself against wasn't in what McKay had said. He stood in the door as the scientist ignored him, and finally, belatedly, made his retreat.

Sam had brought a kindness to her position he hadn't expected to be replicated. But McKay skirted the edge of antagonism – it made him feel as if part of the SGC had turned against the rest.

He'd felt safe, with Sam. Even when she didn't know what to do, even when she didn't have a ready answer. There had never been a rivalry between them; there had never been a need. They played for the same team. He had the impression that McKay scorned him – scorned everyone outside of his own circle – and that made Daniel distrust him.

Not that he believed McKay would purposefully do harm. Hammond would personally run McKay out of the base if he suspected that. Instead it was a matter of how hard he was willing to work, how far he was willing to go. Daniel's only contact with him had been two years prior, when he'd written off Teal'c as dead. He couldn't reconcile that with the credo of _no one gets left behind_, the resolve he'd seen in his teammates to fight their battles to the bitter ends.

Unconsciously, he headed to the Infirmary to escape in Jack's shadow. Fraiser raised her eyebrows when he came in, and Daniel had to smile. SG-1 _had_ been spending an excessive amount of time here. Excessive even for them.

Jack lay on one of the beds with his arm over his eyes, and Teal'c sat on a stool next to him. Daniel joined them. "Hey, Jack."

"Could you _possibly_ say that louder?" Jack muttered.

"The entity has vanished from the SGC's capacity to detect it," Teal'c said. "So far it has done no additional harm."

"Well, at least there's that," Daniel said.

"I do not understand its intention," Teal'c said.

"Yeah, neither do I." He beat his heels against the stool. "Actually, I'm reminded of Sarah's cat. Back when we were working together. She had this big orange thing that would sleep for half the day and then tear through her apartment, knocking things over and no one could figure out why."

Teal'c raised an eyebrow.

"She used to claim it was possessed by Sekhmet," Daniel said. "As far as you know Sekhmet isn't an Ascended Goa'uld, is she? Living in a star?"

Jack pulled his arm off his face, rolling his eyes. "Daniel, are you causing trouble again?"

"Hm?" Daniel asked.

"Shut up," Jack said.

"Sorry."

"Ehn-hn." Jack replaced his arm, but shifted it a moment later. "Hey," he said. "Worth it?"

_(Worth it?)_ He thought back, playing over the encounter. For a moment the emptiness consumed him again – his loss recent, the entity's persistent. It had passed over his memories – it had understood. He felt certain of that. It seemed as though nothing monumental had occurred, but they had found common ground. He knew the value of that. "Yeah, I'd say it was."

Jack smiled, thin-lipped, before closing his eyes. Daniel found himself smiling back.

So much of surviving was making it through one more hour, one more crisis, one more day. Half-solving problems again and again, hoping that somehow they'd work out in the end. A day ago, the task seemed insurmountable; now it seemed arduous. He still stumbled, but he was finding his way.

_(Of course. When you go deaf or blind, your other senses step up to fill the role. Only Sam could solve this, and we lost Sam... so we stepped up. And we found a solution. Maybe not a perfect one, but good enough for now.)_ He shook his head. _(The sky was falling. And there was no one but us to catch it... and we did.)_

_(Yeah. It was worth it.)_

He sat beside Teal'c in the unlikely sanctuary of the Infirmary, watching Jack breathe. And for the first time, he felt a beat of confidence – a feeling that they might make it out of this, after all.

* * *

_"Unscheduled offworld activation! Defense teams to the gateroom!"_

Hammond tensed in his office, pulling himself away from his desk. _(What now?)_ he wondered. Unscheduled activations were rarely innocuous, and had become less so in the past months. He ran to the control room.

"It's SG-2, coming in hot," Walter said as the Iris spun open. He reached for the mic. "Closing the blast doors!"

"Get a medical team to the gateroom," Hammond said.

The control room screens showed weaponsfire coming through the wormhole – and not only staff blasts. The distinctive three-beat fire of drone weapons came through as well.

SG-2 hit the ramp at a dead run, clearing the distance in seconds. "Close the Iris!" Hammond ordered. "Shut it down!"

The Iris closed.

Hammond was on the stairs before the siren cut, jogging into the gateroom and taking stock. "The Major's been hit," one of the airmen yelled – Hammond could see a smoking crater on the team leader's thigh. He stepped aside as a med team rushed in, taking control of the situation.

"What happened out there?" he demanded.

One of the members – Captain Cambridge, Hammond identified – stepped around the group with an anxious look at his commander. "Three or four al'kesh landed, escorting a larger troop carrier," he said. "We were lucky to go undetected as long as we did. We tried dialing in twice before we made it – I swear, sir, any longer and we'd've been toast."

"Are you all right?" Hammond asked.

"Yes, sir – we got off light, all told. They weren't guarding the 'gate. I can give a quick rep–"

"Immediately," Hammond said, gesturing him to the stairs. Cambridge nodded, hurrying toward the briefing room. Hammond followed.

"P3X-439," Cambridge began on his way. "We didn't find any indications until we got about a klick and a half from the 'gate and we found probably the biggest ruin you've ever seen. Moore went nuts trying to get the thing on tape. We spent a couple hours there and we were going to widen our recon when Young sees something in the atmosphere." He stopped behind a chair, clenching the backrest. "We ID it as an al'kesh and the Major orders us back to the Stargate, but when we get there we can't dial into Earth. That's when another al'kesh goes on a low pass over the gate region – we ran for the trees and laid low. We made a couple more runs for the 'gate, and on this last one we ran straight into a patrol. We barely got out of there alive, General," Cambridge said.

"Anubis knew you were there."

"I think so, sir, but he wasn't after us." Cambridge licked his lips. "He didn't pay much attention to us at all. Of all the troops he had there only a couple small patrols came by the 'gate. That's the only reason we got out. He was interested in the monument, sir. I mean _really_ interested."

"Do you have any idea why?"

"I don't know. We didn't stick around to watch."

Hammond nodded. "That's perfectly understandable."

"But Moore has the tape," Cambridge realized. "Before the Jaffa landed. He thought he'd bring them back to Dr. Jackson. It was a lot of Ancient text."

"You have the footage?" Hammond asked.

"Yeah – yeah, it should still be on Moore's camera."

"I'll have Dr. Jackson make those a priority," Hammond said. "You get down to the Infirmary, Captain."

Cambridge nodded. "Yes, sir.

* * *

Daniel opened his lab door with trepidation. He knew it was a totally illogical response, but he couldn't help himself. He would likely be uneasy around monitors for a while. _(It's always the stuff you'd never expect.)_

More bizarre phobias came out of the SGC than any other installation on Earth. They had their share of run-of-the-mill aversions, but the base's true forté lay in finding the incredible anywhere; sometimes, that meant the incredibly bad. Lieutenant Early from SG-17 had found himself unable to wear a vest for months after a bulletproof insert in his MOLLE took staff fire and superheated, trapping him in what the scientists called "his own personal microwave." Major Zimman of SG-12 had stayed on-base for a week straight to avoid crickets because they sounded too much like an alien seeker missile that had taken out half of her team. To say nothing of those who could find echoes of the Stargate in a tranquil pool, or who couldn't disassociate the worlds they explored from Earth, who would find themselves jumping at shadows outside, wondering if Jaffa would come out of the trees.

But in his lab, the tech sergeant had cleaned up the glass and plastic, replaced the monitor and tidied his desk. Nothing catastrophic happened. Everything looked normal.

Except that a glowing distortion had made itself at home in the corner, intersecting one wall.

He didn't step in. "Hello," he said.

If it reacted, he couldn't recognize it as such.

"I have to translate something," he said. "So I hope you're not planning on possessing me. Or throwing me across the lab again."

It glowed.

"Um." Daniel said. "Can you understand me?"

It flickered.

He approached his desk, keeping tabs on the entity. When it made no move to attack him, he picked up the phone and dialed in the control room. "Can you page Stan Kovacek to my lab?" he asked.

_"Right away, Dr. Jackson,"_ the tech on duty answered.

Daniel looked to the entity again, hanging up. He watched as he circled to his desk, laying one hand on the files Hammond had sent. It did nothing.

_(It's getting increasingly difficult to work here,)_ he thought, trying to turn his attention to the printouts and the very few notes provided with them. He'd read them through by the time Kovacek stepped in.

"Dr. Jackson?"

"Hey," Daniel said, pointing to the entity. "It was in here when I arrived. It's just been sitting there."

"Any attempts to communicate?"

"On my end or its?" He shook his head. "I've been talking to it, but I don't think it understands me. It hasn't moved or anything."

"Okay," Kovacek said.

"...so I guess I don't know what I expect you to do," Daniel apologized.

"Well, if you'd like, I can sit in with you," Kovacek said. Just in case."

_(In case what? It says something? Throws me around again?)_ "Yeah. That would be appreciated." _(I don't want to say anything, but that thing is incredibly unnerving.)_

Kovacek pointed at his phone. "May I?"

"Oh. Go ahead."

Kovacek stepped around him, putting in a quick call to Hammond as Daniel dove into his work.

Most of the text was standard Ancient identification – history and names and dates, most of which had no meaning even to him. Under other circumstances he would have noted them, tried to cross-reference with the knowledge the SGC had accumulated thus far. But Hammond had asked him to look for any indication of what Anubis had wanted so badly he was willing to land four al'kesh on a planet to secure it. That was his priority.

"So what does it say?" Kovacek asked.

"A lot, actually," Daniel said. "The Ancients tended to put huge amounts of text on their buildings, which I can respect. Usually, at least, it makes for some fascinating reading. We know probably more about their culture and history, at least anecdotally, than we do about almost any other species. But that makes it hard to determine what exactly something _is_. Using some previously-established patterns on the placement of certain kinds of data, I think I've isolated the passages that refer to this monument specifically, but even that is buried in historical information. When it was built, who built it."

"Oh," Kovacek said.

"Rationalis, _rationalem,_" Daniel muttered.

Kovacek blinked. "What?"

"...sorry. Talking to myself," Daniel said. "_Rationalem inponere,_ to put forth a reason. Here on the architrave."

Kovacek nodded politely to hide the fact that he had no idea what Dr. Jackson was talking about. He made sure not to ask for clarifications over the next few minutes, as Daniel continued to jot notes and mutter.

Some time later, Dr. McKay poked his head around the door, ignoring the fact that he was among the last people Daniel wanted to see. "Excuse me. I heard the, ah, entity was down here."

Daniel turned to stare, incredulity plain on his face. The entity hadn't drawn attention to itself, but its presence was hard to miss. His lab wasn't _that_ cluttered.

"Ah, there it is," McKay said. "It's not going to mind if I take some readings, is it?" he asked, brandishing a handheld sensor.

"I honestly have no idea," Daniel responded.

"It hasn't communicated anything," Kovacek said.

"And you are sure it's the same thing. I mean, we didn't get invaded by another one since this one came through."

Daniel exchanged glances with Kovacek. "We don't think so?" Daniel said, with minimal certainty.

"Right. Well." McKay approached with the caution of a bomb handler, quickly taking his measurements and retreating with an "Oh, that's _fascinating_!" He didn't bother to explain; he just left. Daniel looked after him, about to follow before remembering their _last_ conversation. It gave him pause; Dr. McKay would certainly take time to get used to. _(Meanwhile, for the first time I feel like I'm out of the loop. Even though I usually couldn't understand the loop anyway.)_

The entity remained static, without outward reaction. Kovacek cleared his throat. "Wouldn't it be easier to move to a different lab, rather than put up with these interruptions?" he asked.

"See, the problem with that is that I'd have to wheel half of that shelf wherever I went," Daniel answered, waving his hand at a bookcase. "Not to mention all the journals and filed projects I don't think I'll need until I need them."

"I see," Kovacek said.

"Anyway, I think I'm narrowing in on this. This section–" he jabbed at a column on the printout, "talks about the things in the monument. _'Rem comtenet.'_ Including – aha!" He snatched a dry-erase marker, circling a set of symbols. "Here we go. _Summi valeti,_ of highest value, the following: '_colligetus sapienis, alibrarorum exrudimeti_.' _Sapienis_, sapiens, sap – wisdom. Wisdoms, gathering of wisdoms. Library – _alibrarorum exrudimeti_, library of knowledge." He paused, tumblers clicking in the back of his head. "Library of knowledge." He put down his notes. "Oh _no_."

* * *

Daniel burst into Hammond's office looking like he'd seen a ghost or rather like he was a ghost. If there was color left to his face, it was very well hidden. _(That is not a good expression,)_ Hammond thought. "What is it, Doctor?"

"I think Anubis got his hands on a Repository of the Ancients," Daniel said.


	9. Portents

The elevator stopped at Level 18, doors opening to reveal Daniel in the hallway with three folders clutched between his elbow and ribcage and a half-finished mug of coffee in his hand. Jack watched with bemusement. Daniel really couldn't cope with having an arm out of commission for long.

"Going down?"

"Actually, I was looking for you," Daniel said, slipping into the elevator.

Jack inspected him. _(He looks better,)_ he decided. _(...I mean, he looks like he hasn't slept in three days, he thinks the world is about to end, and he's running on caffeine, but he looks better.)_ "You look way too awake."

"Couldn't sleep," he said, confirming Jack's suspicions. "Haven't really been able to sleep for a while. At least I'm getting some work done." He shifted the papers under his good arm. "Are you all right? You look a bit..." he wiggled his hand to indicate general off-ness, sloshing coffee.

Jack straightened. "Fine." He switched the subject before it could develop. "I hear you have bad news for me."

"Bad news for everyone, I'd think," Daniel said.

"That's generous of you."

"It's not like I went out and bought it, Jack. I'd be perfectly happy to be proved wrong on this one."

"Any chance of that?"

"Maybe. Probably not."

_(Course not. 'cause when's the last time you were wrong about anything?)_ "What's up?"

"Well, SG-2 got chased off P3X-439 by Anubis, and I think it was a planet with a Repository of the Ancients."

The name rung a bell, but deigned not to identify itself further. "Repository, you say."

Daniel's brain downshifted. "Yeah, you know, that thing that grabbed your head, made you talk funny, nearly killed you."

Jack jabbed the button for level 22. "Let 'im have it."

"Well, see, I think that Anubis may be able to access it safely."

"Then I'm sure he'll have some fascinating reading."

"Jack," Daniel said, "this isn't some set of manuscripts we're talking about. This is _all the knowledge of the Ancients_."

"Doesn't he already have that?"

"No. No, I don't think so." Daniel sped up. "Ascension doesn't make you _all-knowing_, what it does is increase your abilities to perceive and comprehend so that for all intents and purposes there are no restrictions on what you can learn or understand. You still need to study or develop the ideas on your own."

Jack rolled his eyes, stretching out a crick in his neck. "And?"

"So a Repository of the Ancients includes information on everything, Jack. Everything. History and physics and astronomy and culture and medicine and technology."

That caught his attention. He glanced over, alarm finally infiltrating his face. "Technology."

"Including weapons technology."

"And you think he can get at this."

"Well, he must. Otherwise why did he go after it?" The doors slid open, and Jack glanced down the hall. With a sigh, he jabbed the button for level 27. "And even if he might not be able to, can we really take the risk?"

"So what do we do?"

"Well, I don't know. That's why I was telling you."

Jack quirked his eyebrows. "And you expect _me_ to know?"

"...I was hoping."

"Hoi," Jack breathed, flipping open his watch.

"What are you thinking?" Daniel asked.

"I'm thinking it'd be nice to have an invulnerable fortress with lots of advanced technology right about now."

Daniel jerked away. "I don't know how you can joke about that."

"Joking is all I _can_ do about that," Jack said. "You wanted an idea. I don't suppose your starman has anything to say on the subject."

"It doesn't have much to say on anything. It's been in my lab probably since it left the Stargate, just... floating in the corner. McKay's come and poked it with things from time to time, totally ignoring any semblance of etiquette." The doors opened, and they stepped into the hall. "Speaking of McKay, he's not joining SG-1, is he?" His voice adopted a petulant quality the previous sentences lacked.

"I haven't chosen a replacement yet," Jack said. "As far as I know he's strictly earthside. Getting on your nerves, is he?" He made an odd noise that Daniel could only guess was a laugh.

Daniel was seized by the urge to tell him everything – how much he missed Sam, how even beyond losing _her_ they'd lost a sympathetic voice in the world of technology and physics, how McKay might not care more for them than for any casual coworkers and wouldn't go out of his way to protect them. If it had been McKay on '542–

But all he said was "Yeah. Kinda," and let Jack take from that what he would.

They found Teal'c in the briefing room, looking over materials and laptops already assembled. Mission files scattered the table, everything related to the Ancients or Ancient technology. Daniel added his folders to the mess, shuffling through.

"Hammond got a task force together already?" Jack asked.

Teal'c nodded. "So it seems."

He glanced at Hammond's office, catching sight of his CO sitting at his desk reading through a report. "What the hey," he muttered, strolling over. He tapped on the office door, opening it carefully when no one told him to scram. "We have a little impromptu meeting of the think tank here," he said, waving back at Daniel and Teal'c. "If you're not too busy."

Hammond put down his booklet. "You just all decided to congregate up here?"

"Well, I was going to go get breakfast, but I figured I'd stop in, see if I could help." He made a face. "Can we?"

Hammond checked his desk clock, standing. "I have fifteen minutes before the scientists are due here," he said. "By all means, have a seat."

"Have a seat," he called back over his shoulder before choosing a chair for himself. SG-1 settled in, Daniel appropriating a legal pad and a pen from the pile.

"I've checked over a few more of the columns in the ruin SG-2 found," he said without preamble. "There's a line that reads '_locata legati nostri,_' which is an inscription we've seen before." He flipped open one of his folders, sliding a picture to the table center. "'Place of our Legacy.' The same inscription was in the room where we found the other Repository." He flipped through another stack of photos, pulling out two more. "Granted, we've also seen this on a couple other large structures which, while containing a lot of text, haven't revealed anything technological, so it's possible this refers to any large construction intended to last beyond the Ancient plague. Still, in combination with the other inscription–" he fumbled at the folder one-handed until Jack relieved him of it, spreading out the contents. "–thanks. In combination with _this_ part, which makes reference to a 'library of knowledge,' I think the evidence is fairly compelling. Not conclusive, but..."

"So we don't know that it's a Repository," Hammond summarized.

"We don't know for sure, no," Jack agreed. "But either Daniel is right or our luck is unusually good. One I wouldn't bet for, the other I wouldn't bet against."

"So what do you propose?"

Silence around the table.

Teal'c spoke. "I am ready to meet with leaders of the Free Jaffa."

"No offense," Daniel said, "but what do we expect the Jaffa to do? This is Ancient technology we're talking about."

"At the very least their intelligence will be more recent than ours," Teal'c said.

Hammond nodded. "That's reasonable. We need more information to make a proper threat assessment. Teal'c, as soon as you're ready, you're cleared to go."

"Threat assessment?" Daniel asked. "Unbridled access to all Ancient technology ever devised. Unless we can get very specific information, there's not a lot that will help us."

"Well, let's play the old 'what could possibly go wrong' game, shall we?" Jack sneered at their own limitations. "We could get attacked from space. We could get attacked through the Stargate. Anubis could go back in time and unwrite our existence."

Everyone looked up. Not only had no one expected Jack to jump on the temporal paradoxes, the possibility hadn't occurred to anyone. "We haven't seen indications that the Ancients ever managed working time travel technology," Daniel said.

"It was just an–" Jack shook his head. "I'm just saying that making predictions won't help. We can't _get_ ten steps ahead of him on this one."

"Not that we usually can," Daniel said, picking up the line of thought. "The SGC is a reactionary force, mainly defensive. We don't have a space fleet or any platform to launch a strike from. All we've ever been able to do is deal with what comes our way and take opportunities as they're presented to us."

"And, strange as it sounds, that's only one of our problems," Jack said. "If he has an advantage as big as it sounds like..." he swallowed and grimaced. "Ba'al and his cronies don't stand much more of a chance than we do."

"Anubis will conquer the System Lords and claim the might of the Goa'uld," Teal'c said. "He will have the strength to subjugate the galaxy through force of numbers alone."

"All right. So what can we do?" Hammond asked. "Besides admit the fact that there's nothing we can do."

"I honestly don't know," Daniel said. "Unless we can find some way to either kill Anubis or steal the Repository."

Hammond frowned. "Teal'c? To your knowledge, what's the strength of the Jaffa rebellion's presence in Anubis' forces?"

"To my knowledge, there is little," Teal'c said. "Anubis' former first prime, Herak, could sense one's true loyalties. As a result, no Free Jaffa could come within Anubis' personal guard. If M'Zel is correct and Herak has perished this may have changed, but infiltration would happen slowly."

"So there's no chance we could attempt an assassination."

"Well, that assumes Anubis is even susceptible to Jaffa weapons," Daniel interrupted. "He's half-Ascended."

Jack still looked as though he was swallowing something distasteful. "You know, next time you run into Oma, could you have her explain again _why_ it would be a bad thing just to kick Anubis' ass?"

Daniel gave him a disgruntled look, but no more.

"All right, how about sabotage?" Hammond asked. "Could we destroy the repository?"

"From what we've seen, Ancient technology – the Stargate excepted – tends to be no more resilient than any other devices," Daniel said. "Anubis' last Ancient weapon was taken out by a death glider."

Teal'c imperceptibly swelled with pride.

"Do we have reason to believe the Tok'ra might be in a position to do anything?" Hammond asked.

Jack turned and coughed deeply into one hand.

Hammond looked at him sharply, and Jack's expression turned sheepish. "Sorry, sir, I think I'm coming down with a cold. I wasn't actually trying to make a point. This time."

"Why don't you head up to the Infirmary," Hammond suggested.

"It's just a cold. I'm fine. Really."

Hammond was less than convinced. "Still. I want Fraiser to check you out."

Jack suppressed a long suffering sigh. "Right. Now?"

Hammond nodded and gestured to the door.

Jack unhappily pushed away from the table, and took his leave.

"What of the entity?" Teal'c asked.

Daniel shook his head, pulling his attention from Jack's dismissal. He could count on one hand the number of times he'd had a cold, or admitted to having one. "It hasn't made any attempt to communicate. Or, if it has, I haven't recognized it as such."

"Is it not similar to an Ascended being?"

Daniel quirked his head, tapping his pen on the table. "You know, I don't know," he admitted. "I'm a bit fuzzy on the actual physics of Ascension. It exists as energy and so does Anubis, if that's what you're asking."

"Might it know a technique whereby we may attack him?"

"I honestly have no clue what it knows," Daniel said. "Though I would be careful about asking it to tell us how to attack energy beings. It might perceive that as some form of threat."

"Perhaps if we informed it of the circumstances surrounding our request."

"Maybe. But all of that hinges on establishing lines of communication again."

"I'll put Daggart, Kovacek and McKay on it," Hammond said. "In the mean time, the table is still open for any and all suggestions."

Daniel cleared his throat, looking down at his hand. "...I know this is probably the last thing we want to do, and I have no idea what benefit we could get from it, but we should consider opening a dialogue with Ba'al. It's come to the point where a strategic alliance might be beneficial to each of us."

"We'll hold that option in reserve," Hammond said. He pushed away his chair and stood. "In the mean time, Teal'c, you see what information the rebel Jaffa want to share. Dr. Jackson, keep working on the translations from PV1-542 and P3X-439. And as unlikely as it seems, we'll hope we're blowing this out of proportion. Dismissed."

* * *

Jack poked his head into the Infirmary, scanning the premises. It didn't look like the Doctor was in – he perked up. With any luck, he could get one of the nurses on duty to give him something easy and vile-tasting and send him on his way. "Fraiser's not here?"

"She's back in her office," a nurse said.

_(Luck, zero; O'Neill, negative lots.)_ "Of course she is," he said, and headed in that direction. He poked his head into the office, hoping that she'd be totally immersed in paperwork or otherwise unable to see him. Once again, no such luck.

"Colonel!" she greeted, quickly clearing her desk of the two thin folders which occupied her. "What's up?"

"Hammond sent me," Jack said with ill grace. "I have a cold."

"A cold?" Fraiser feigned polite surprise, slipping out of her chair and moving to the drawers in the Infirmary proper. "That's unusual for you, isn't it?"

"Less so today." He watched Fraiser retrieve a set of scrubs. "Oh, _what_."

"Get changed," Fraiser ordered. "I have to examine you."

"It's a cold."

"Doesn't matter." She held the outfit out. "I did warn you this would happen."

Jack huffed. "Can I just say this is the worst possible time for this?"

"I suppose you could try asking it nicely to go away," Fraiser suggested. Her attitude softened. "It won't be any worse than the other hundred times, Colonel."

"And that's supposed to make me like it more?" He complied with ill grace, resigning himself to the world of penlights and cold stethoscopes.

Fraiser was wrong – it was worse than the other times. Each repetition made it worse, as cumulative frustrations layered upon each other. Every time, an insidious voice in the back of his mind got a little bit louder, asking him if this so-called good health was really worth it. Especially when he was still grounded from active duty. What purpose did these frequent visits serve but to reinforce that? After all, Fraiser couldn't _cure_ him.

She finished quickly. "I want to take an X-ray."

Jack boggled. "It's a _cold_!"

"We'll see." She gestured back to the machine. "Please."

He slid off the bed. "Next time, Daniel gets to be the one–"

He cut off the automatic retort. _Next time Daniel gets to be the one exposed to radiation._ It wasn't funny.

"...let's do this," he said, defeated.

* * *

Daniel eyed the entity when he stepped into his lab, noting that it hadn't moved. He wondered if McKay had struck on something, if this _was_ the Entity or some unrelated disaster sneaking in under its cover – but he had no control over that, and the SGC had no way to verify or disprove the theory. "Hello again," he said, in the interests of being polite. He turned on his computer, watching the entity while waiting for it to boot. _(I wonder what you're thinking. At least I know you think.)_

The speakers chimed as he logged into the SGC servers, and five or six different applications opened automatically.

His mail icon blinked, and he fumbled the mouse over it. Two new messages – intra-SGC memos. The oldest was a quick update on the entity, ludicrous in its simplicity. Quite a few of the messages that went through the SGC were like that; low in detail or purposefully vague. Then, quite often, only the most basic aspects of any given development were initially known. Little could be said in this case other than "the malfunctions experienced earlier were the result of an energy being invading the main computers; there has been one successful attempt at communications and further attempts have failed." It might raise eyebrows somewhere.

_(Strange to think we're so inured that this constitutes a minor update,)_ he mused. _(But until we find another line of communication, it's not going to get more earthshattering. It would be easier if it could–)_

_(...mecanyou__**hearmeCANYOUHEARmecan**__youhear...)_

Daniel jumped nearly a foot. The words had pulsed into and out of his mind without bothering to pass his ears, sorted up from his stores of language without his conscious control. "Hello?" he said back.

The entity expanded, diffusing up to the ceiling. Its "voice" appeared again, flickering into the discernible like tuning a manual radio. _(You could not hear me prior to this. This register will suffice.)_

"Um." Daniel stared. "This register?"

_(You are patterns. You think in patterns. As do we. It took some time to understand your resonance. We need only coincide to communicate.)_

"You're reading my thoughts?" Daniel asked.

_(No. To study your thoughts I would need proximity to touch your mind. To do so without holding most of my energy elsewhere would damage you.)_ It condensed. _(Again.)_

"...which is why you had to sit in the 'gate," Daniel said.

_(Yes.)_

"I see." He moved carefully to his desk, pulling out a recorder and slipping in a new tape. "You don't mind if I record our conversations, do you?"

_(You will study me. I anticipate these procedures.)_

He put the recorder down. "As far as I'm concerned, you're a visitor to this planet," he said. "That means we won't or _shouldn't_ do anything to you that you don't want us to do. That includes 'studying' you without your consent." _(We've had way, way too many problems with that in the past. We're not the NID.)_

_(My intention in coming here was to be studied,)_ it said. _(As the other matter beings did. We anticipate your findings.)_

_(...and I just realized that you're not actually saying these things,)_ Daniel thought, putting the recorder aside. _(Which means I get to record them by hand. By my off hand.)_ He glanced ruefully at his slung arm. _(I wonder if one of the SG-18 Lieutenants would like to come take dictation? Or I'm sure Dr. Daggart has an intern around here somewhere.)_ "All right. Where to start?" he wondered aloud. "As I'm sure you can understand, I have a lot of questions."

_(I understand.)_

"One sec." He snatched his phone, dialing. It picked up on the first ring.

_"Hammond."_

"General, the entity is communicating," Daniel said.

* * *

Jack perched on the foot of the bed, kicking his heels into its legs as a deeply dissatisfying gesture of protest and trying, as he had all morning, not to cough. While Fraiser studied the latest batch of results he occupied himself by wishing various torments on Anubis – who had quickly adopted, in his mind, the role of the Root of All Evils. _(Maybe we could get good old Oma to kick him back to humanity,)_ he thought. _(And then we could lock him in a nice little base with a nice little pulsar just overhead.)_

Finally, Fraiser came to a conclusion. Carrying her clipboard, she approached again – he noticed that, through coincidence or caution, she stayed just out of range of a good kick. Not that he'd ever seriously attack her, but his behavior probably didn't convey that.

Fraiser looked him in the eye, and he could see her gearing up for bad news. "You have pneumonia."

The diagnosis was so unexpected that all Jack could do was stare. "...I do _not_."

"More accurately you have radiation pneumonitis," Fraiser clarified.

"I _have_ a _cold_."

"Most often we see it in chemotherapy patients," she said without stopping. "Your condition is thankfully not acute, but it does affect a majority of your right lung and almost half of your left. The good news is, it's treatable."

"Here's the thing." He held up both hands, stalling. "Have you ever been wrong about something like this?"

"Yes. I have. Mostly when confronted with various alien diseases." She folded her arms. "We could run a few more tests to rule that out as absolutely as we can..."

"_No_." He collapsed backward, dragging both hands over his face and up through his hair. These visits had moved from annoying to trying to tedious to simply and plainly abhorred. He understood why Daniel hated radiation. Alone among the hazards of his job, radiation seemed impersonal and keenly malicious. Its effects were worse than Goa'uld torture, more subtle and more ghastly, and its hot inhumanity compounded his repulsion. He could understand sadism, even if it disgusted him. Radiation was mechanical – there were no reasons, no appeals. "So now I have pneumonia."

"Pneumonitis. As far as I can tell."

"As far as–" He glared. "This is new."

Fraiser sighed. "Colonel, you have to realize that you have the most convoluted medical record of anyone I've ever treated, Daniel excepted. In a normal case I'd be concerned about things like your prior smoking habit and your medication record, but I've also got to add in more recent factors such as acute sarcophagus withdrawal."

Jack did a spectacular, though unintentional, impression of a wet cat. "That was more than a year ago."

"But you can't underestimate the persistent effects both from using the Sarcophagus and becoming addicted." She held eye contact, forcing her point. "This is a unique combination of conditions. And you may have to face the fact that, with the dose you received, it is possible you may never fully recover."

"I felt fine until this morning!" he argued. Fraiser opened her mouth to respond, and he headed her off. "And don't give me any of that 'latent' crap."

"You can protest all you want. It won't change the fact that you've suffered moderate to severe radiation poisoning and are lucky to be alive." Silently, she dared him to refute the fact. "In light of the damage done to your immune system, I'm going to augment what you've already been given with a range of antibiotics and antifungals. You'll also take an antinflammatory. I'll also be restricting your diet for the next few weeks." Her tone changed, became darkly humorous. "You may want to take notes."

"I'm glad one of us is enjoying this," he growled.

"Colonel, all you can do at this point is try to make the best of this. I can cite plenty of articles on the importance of mood to recovery."

"Do those articles happen to take into account my 'unique' circumstances?" he shot, knowing it impossible to answer. He pulled himself back up, black hatred knotting between his damaged lungs. "Start talking."

* * *

Daniel hung up. In the Briefing Room Hammond was meeting with another group of scientists – Daniel was to see what information he could get from the entity on his own. He'd moderated his share of first contacts – though, as with Kovacek, most had been human civilizations. And often all he did was say "Hi," resolve any linguistic difficulties, and move on.

He dug out a journal and a pen. "Well, first, let me say that I'm glad we can... talk," he said. _(Now what do we talk about?)_ "What can you tell me about yourself?"

_(I cannot,)_ it said.

_(And we're back to this again.)_ "Why not?"

_(I have not been studied.)_

"...I don't understand," Daniel said.

_(I have not been studied,)_ the entity repeated. _(I have no data I can give.)_

"Why do you think you need to be studied?"

_(To know. To understand.)_

Daniel shook his head. He had a bad feeling about this. "You believe that all knowledge comes from an empirical approach."

_(No.)_

_(Okay, that's a small good sign.)_ "But this does."

_(We have no other faculties with which to analyze ourselves.)_

"You're sure?" Daniel sat, rubbing his slung arm. "I'm sorry, I just find that hard to believe. You can identify yourself as an individual, after all. Or am I wrong?"

_(I am aware of my existence.)_

"All right! Let's start from there," he said. "What qualities do you assign your existence?"

It floated silently.

"...come on. I'm sure we could think of something. Uh... common ways to describe someone's life are duration, scope–"

_(Duration,)_ the entity repeated. _(This is a concept the last physical beings once attempted to explain. We do not perceive time in discrete units; we do not recognize 'duration.' What is scope?)_

_(This entire conversation is shooting way out of my league,)_ Daniel thought. _(Do we even have an existential philosopher on staff?)_ "Scope. The events which form a part of your life, you experiences. Your actions, decisions... scope. Everything you've done or been a part of. You showed me part of it when you were in the Stargate."

_(That wasn't all me.)_

_(...oh, you're kidding me.)_ "What do you mean?"

_(I showed you a collection of gleaned memories. This is how we communicate.)_

He put his head down into his hand, then jerked it up again. "Okay. No, that actually helps. That tells me something. You're saying that as a species you share your experiences on a fundamental level."

_(Yes,)_ it said.

"Which means that you have not only your own formative experiences but potentially those of many others," he said. "I can see how that would make it hard to identify yourself."

_(Yes,)_ it said.

* * *

Teal'c stood in the gateroom, staff weapon in one hand, dressed in Jaffa robes and facing the 'gate. When he had been First Prime of Apophis, his "god" had required him – and all Jaffa – to say a prayer before stepping through without his presence. It had been a simple one: _Apophis, lord of the many stars, given life and power everlasting, grant safe passage through your doorway, in your name_. Once Apophis had thrown a Jaffa who had failed him into the Stargate's wash. He had use it as the backdrop for his visual communications. He had made it the symbol of his power.

The Stargate had always been formidable. The Goa'uld thought all technology should be formidable – magic beyond Jaffa comprehension, born of the Gods. Warriors were taught early that they used these devices, never controlled them. Though he no longer thought of these things as magic, the attitude remained; the Stargate had never been tamed or bent to the Tau'ri's will. They existed in an uneasy alliance, as the past several days had shown.

From the control room, Sergeant Harriman input the coordinates. The Free Jaffa and the Tau'ri had maintained cursory contact; as a gesture of good faith, Hammond had continued to provide them with tretonin even when the alliance dissolved. The Jaffa had begun to set up their own labs to synthesize the drug, but had few chemists in their ranks. Progress was slow – but at least their temporary dependence meant they were easily found. The same could not be said for the Tok'ra.

The wormhole opened with a flash, cool and neutral with neither hostility nor welcome. Sergeant Harriman keyed the mic. "Good luck, sir."

"With luck, I shall not need luck," Teal'c said, and strode up the ramp, into the event horizon–

–and as soon as he hit the other side he knew something was wrong.

Even before he saw the ring of weapons pointing at him he was hit by the tension in the air, buzzing along every angle of the world. He hadn't walked into a battlefield, but the atmosphere was the same; even when the sentry ring relaxed their stance, none of them relaxed. Even the stars seemed acridly sharp, glinting distant weaponsfire. "What has occurred?" he asked quickly.

"Much, Master Teal'c," a younger warrior said. "Please, come. Master Bra'tac will wish to see you."

* * *

"So, while you are aware of yourself as an individual, you don't have an individual, concrete identity," Daniel reprised for his own benefit. "And this is normal for your entire species. But you want to attain one." He stretched his fingers, trying to alleviate the biting ache in his palm. Even in shorthand, this was difficult to take down. "Out of curiosity, if this is the norm, how did you get the idea that it needed to be changed?"

_(We do not know.)_

Daniel sighed. He'd long ago learned the value of admitting ignorance – often, it was the only way one learned. But the entity's refusal to label anything but certainty "knowledge" threatened to stymie his efforts. "Can you elaborate?"

_(We feel that this is wrong. This is ingrained into our experience of our world. But we cannot analyze this assurance.)_

"We," he repeated, turning the word over. "That's odd. There's a universal quality you exhibit, but which you... universally? – and _instinctively_ regard as wrong?"

_(Yes.)_

"...that doesn't usually happen," Daniel said.

_(It does not?)_

"No. Usually if something is universal, it becomes regarded as a normative standard." He looked over his notes. This was intellectually fatiguing, even as it was fascinating. Skimming over the dialogue, he noticed how often he'd jotted down _the entity_ or simply _E_. and grimaced. _(What an impersonal way to go about things.) _"You know, I really wish I had something to call you."

_(As I have said,)_ the entity reminded him, _(we have no use for sonic communication.)_

"But you've learned our language," Daniel said. "You're speaking – thinking? – _communicating_ in words right now."

_(Yes,)_ the entity agreed.

"Names aren't just sounds. In a lot of cultures, names are a part of a person's identity."

_(Identity?)_ the entity asked.

"Yes. And there are other, practical benefits as well – a name makes it easier to signal to someone that you want their attention, and to specify who you're talking to or about."

_(So I should have a name.)_

"Well, it would certainly make things easier."

_(How is a name chosen?)_

"Oh, boy." He flexed his hand. "Well, there are a lot of different ways. Some people choose a name from someone among their ancestors, or a famous figure. Some people choose a name for religious reasons, or for its meaning. Some people choose a name because they think it sounds nice, or will be highly distinctive, or because it has cultural connotations. ...of course, most people name their immediate descendants, but then people also assign what we call 'nicknames' to friends, family, associates... a nickname is basically a name that's earned or gained somehow, often humorous or telling, which can indicate fondness, familiarity, scorn, disrespect, or a number of other things based on the context of..." he trailed off, grinning sheepishly. "I'm sorry. I'm rambling, aren't I? Jack would have told me to shut up long before now."

The entity flickered. _(This is bad?)_

"Well, it depends on how interested you are, I guess."

_(I am interested,)_ the entity said. _(I want to understand. Everything.)_

"That's a very valuable quality," Daniel said. "...in fact, it's one of the hallmarks of someone trying to Ascend."

_(Then is there a name for someone trying to Ascend?)_

Daniel glanced across his books, across the most recent crop of artifacts and manuscripts, then awkwardly snapped his fingers. "Satya," he said. "How do you like Satya?"

The entity wavered. _(I am Satya?)_

"You can be if you want to be," Daniel said. "Roughly translated it means 'truth,' or 'higher order,' even, to a certain extent, 'identity.' It actually has a lot of meanings."

_(I do not exhibit all these things,)_ the entity said.

"Well, often a name will signal an aspiration," Daniel said. "For example, 'Grace' is a fairly common Earth name, not because babies are especially graceful, but–"

_(Then I will be Satya,)_ the entity said. _(To signal an aspiration toward an understanding of truth, higher order, and identity.)_

"An understanding?" Daniel asked.

It shimmered, coruscating into fractured rainbows before returning to pure white. _(Yes.)_

"What don't you understand?" _(...what don't you understand __**now**__?)_

_(Everything,)_ the entity said, rocketing them straight back to square one.

* * *

Fraiser collected a thick sheaf of papers from the med lab's printer, jotting notes in red pen in the margins. "...and that's about it. Go over this again when you have time." She paperclipped it and handed it over. "Oh, and one more thing."

"What now?"

"While the president's asked Hammond to turn over most mission and operations reports to the documentary crew, he can't force us to turn over medical records. So you need to tell me what, if anything, you'll clear me to release."

Jack squinted. He didn't remember touching any weird alien mirrors, but Fraiser had gone from making infuriating amounts of sense to making no sense whatsoever – and worse, she looked as if she expected him to understand. "What? Documentary crew?"

Fraiser took a turn to look surprised. "Emmet Bregman? The president's documentary of the SGC? Hammond sent out a memo."

Jack didn't know where to _start_. "I've been busy," he understated. "Does the president remember that this is a top-secret operation?"

"I think that's why he's doing it."

"Okay." Jack stopped, thinking through it. "...I think one of us is confused as to what _top secret_ means."

"The president feels," Fraiser explained, "that should the Stargate Program ever go public, there should exist a document to show the 'reality' of what we do here. Something more human than mission reports." She turned back to the computer, clicking in commands. The printer started up again, expelling a single sheet. "Here."

Jack snatched it, reading it through. "Someone is joking."

"Afraid not." She leaned back against the desk. "So?"

"So?"

"Your medical records."

"Because posterity really needs the details of my knee problems," Jack said. "Whatever. If they really can't find anything better to put on film."

"So, you're releasing everything?"

He grunted an affirmative.

"I assume except for–"

"We agreed that never happened."

Fraiser chuckled. "Yes, sir. Well, that's all I have for you. Check back in tomorrow or if your symptoms worsen."

He hopped up. "And no sushi, right?"

"Right," she said, but he was already out the door.

* * *

A knock at his door jarred Daniel's focus, saving him from the latest logical knot he'd tied himself into. "Excuse me," he said to the entity, slipping over and sliding it open. "Jack!"

"Yeah, hi." Jack waved. "Teal'c's off to parley with the Jaffa. I just thought I'd check in and see how you were doing."

"It's communicating," he blurted. "This is going better than I ever thought possible. I think it has something to do with it's racial history, the fact that these beings have interacted with humans or human-like beings before, but... this is amazing."

"I'm happy for you," Jack said, patting his uninjured shoulder encouragingly.

"Satya is not only willing to communicate, it's actually eager to exchange–"

"Satya?" Jack interrupted.

"I thought it would be easier to work with if it had a name," Daniel said.

"And so you went for the most obscure name you could find."

"It's not–" Daniel shook his head, dropping himself from that argument entirely. "It's incredible, Jack. This is one of the most unusual sentient creatures we've ever encountered, at least on par with the water beings through the Russian gate, possibly more unlike us than we thought possible to establish direct communications with–"

"Whoa, there," Jack said, alarms going off in his head. Daniel was Enthused. If he wasn't careful, he'd end up listening to this all day. "What have you _learned_?"

"As for specifics?" Daniel asked. "Actually... almost nothing. _But!_ That's not the point," he rushed to head off Jack's protest. "It's like a child," he explained. "It has incredible intuitive ability, but almost no formal or specific knowledge. It figured out how to use the Stargate _instinctively_."

"Okay," Jack said.

"And from what it tells me this is the norm for its race. There's nothing unusual about it. They understand and manipulate complex physical states the way human children learn to manipulate small items or walk or talk. Here–" he waved him into the lab. "You should hear it talk. It's incredible. It actually figured out how we process sound and causes that processing to happen inside your mind without using sound to cause it. It–"

"Daniel!"

Daniel crashed to a halt.

"Before you rupture something," Jack said, "sit down, take a deep breath, and let's try to get some perspective here. Something which everyone affiliated with the SGC seems to have lost, all of a sudden."

"Perspective," Daniel repeated. "Perspective on what?"

"The only things between us and Anubis coming at us with a superweapon are the System Lords and production time," he said. "Neither of those will hold him back indefinitely. I'm sure this Saturn thing–"

"Satya."

"–is all very exciting for you, but we don't have time for extracurriculars, despite what certain prominent politicians may believe."

Daniel digested that, searching for hidden meaning. "Certain prominent politicians?"

"You didn't get the memo?" Jack asked, with a wash of vindictiveness. _(See! It isn't just me! Daniel is still less organized!)_ He snorted, regretting it immediately as it triggered a cough. _(Some distinction.)_

"You all right?" Daniel asked.

"Yeah. Fine. Little case of pneumonia, nothing serious."

Daniel upgraded to a personal DEFCON 3. "You have _pneumonia?_"

"Radioactive pneumonia. Don't worry about it. The president wants to make a documentary of the Stargate Program."

The rapid-fire subject changes proved too much. Daniel's grasp on the situation crumbled. "Start again?"

"Hammond sent out a memo," Jack said, fumbling for the copy Fraiser had printed out. "The President wants a documentary made of SGC operations. We're supposed to provide all reasonable assistance and cooperation."

Daniel took the paper, skimming the lines. "I note he doesn't define 'reasonable' anywhere in here."

"Nope. That he doesn't."

"Is this really a good time for something like this?" Daniel turned the paper over, but no further information presented itself. "Even putting aside the threat from Anubis..."

"It's politics," Jack said. "At least Kinsey doesn't have his grimy paws anywhere near this one. That I can tell."

Daniel frowned at the sheet.

"Anyway," Jack said, "find out what your new friend has to say about energy beings. See if it will help us."

"Jack, that's what I've been trying to tell you," Daniel said. "It doesn't _understand_ the specifics of its own existence. This species was friends with the original inhabitants of PV1-542 because they wanted those inhabitants to study them and come up with an answer."

Jack peered around him skeptically. "How can it not _know_?"

"I have six pages of notes dedicated to that subject," Daniel said. "If you'd like to take a look."

"You're threatening me, aren't you?"

"I know this isn't what you want to hear, but I don't know that we'll be able to get anything from it in the short term," Daniel said. "In the long term, there's no telling how much we could learn, not just about physics, but about the cognitive sciences as well."

"You're right," Jack said. "That wasn't what I wanted to hear. Daniel–"

"I know, I know. And I _will_ try to see if it can help us. But at the moment we haven't gotten past 'who are you?' yet."

Jack's eyebrows hopped. "How long have you been at this?"

_(Judging by how much my head hurts...)_ "I don't know. A while."

"But you think you're on the verge of something."

"The verge? No. Nowhere near. But I think there _is_ something."

Jack sighed. "All right. Keep at it."

"You want to sit in?" Daniel asked. "Ask it yourself?"

"Not particularly." Jack gave him a pointed look. "You have fun, though. Just don't forget to sleep or eat."

"I won't," Daniel lied, and stepped back inside.

* * *

The young warrior led Teal'c to a low line of hills hidden in the shade of a bluff, one of many such evasive spots in a wide and varied landscape. "This is the master's favored spot for meditation," he said softly. "He has also trained many here." He raised his voice, pitching a respectful hail. "Master Bra'tac!"

"Here," Bra'tac called, voice drawing them into a low valley. He approached quickly, at the ready. He smiled when he saw Teal'c, but he addressed his guide. "What have you brought me?"

Teal'c closed the distance between them. "Tek'ma'tae, Bra'tac," he said, grasping his mentor's hands.

Bra'tac nodded to him. "Thank you, Jol'ec," he said to the young warrior. "You may go."

Jol'ec swelled with pride, then bowed deeply and jogged off toward the Stargate again. Teal'c watched him go. Bra'tac had always possessed a good memory – Teal'c believed he knew every Jaffa in the rebellion. He remembered his own youth, how honored he had felt that the great master had known his name, had called him something other than "chal'tii." Some things did not change, and for that he was grateful.

"Welcome, Teal'c," Bra'tac said. "It has been too long."

"It has," Teal'c said. "What has transpired?"

"Anubis," Bra'tac said, as if all catastrophes were epitomized in the word. "He no longer holds his fleet to defend his worlds. Instead he sweeps through the galaxy like a slow wave, leaving the conquered and destroyed in his wake. Soon this world will be in his path, and soon after that, all refuge known to us."

"Would this not open his territories to attack?" Teal'c asked.

"So it would seem, but Anubis cares not. And the System Lords have moved more quickly to save themselves than to strike their common enemy." He huffed. "We enter a dark time indeed."

"Then you know that Anubis has laid claim to a library of the Ancients," Teal'c said.

Bra'tac showed surprise but not shock. "No. We knew only that he had gained confidence. We had hoped it was a reckless sort, unfounded by anything but bravado."

"I do not believe it so."

"Walk with me," Bra'tac ordered as only an old teacher could order. In the Jaffa language one's trainer was known by a special word: _senwit'di_, second father. To obey was an honor. "What is this library?"

"It is a device," Teal'c said. "With it one may gain access to the sum total of Ancient knowledge."

Bra'tac snorted, smiling at the odd synchronity. "All the knowledge of the Ancients and all the knowledge of the Goa'uld," he said. "Knowledge is power, Teal'c, almost as important as strength of heart and arm. The Goa'uld are often fools, but they are gluttonous for knowledge. Perhaps, in a world where it was not so readily obtained, all would be for the better."

Walking with his mentor beneath the stars, Teal'c felt more at ease than he had for weeks. He did not drop his concentration or his guard. But this was his element; this was his environment. Humans hated death. Jaffa respected it. _(If we are to die, we die well, and we die free. That is all we can ask for, and more than, years ago, I thought attainable.)_

"But what are we to do? We are ready to fight, and to die if need be. More cannot be asked."

"Indeed," Teal'c affirmed.

Bra'tac leaned into his march, evening the length of his stride. "There is a shadow on your heart which was not there when last we spoke," he said. "Tell me."

Teal'c nodded to the far dark horizon. "Samantha Carter has fallen."

"Did she die well?"

"Yes," he said. "Honorably, though not in battle. Slain by Anubis."

"And you have observed the rituals for her death?"

"All I am able to."

"Yet still your heart is not at peace." Bra'tac turned to him, eyes divining truth. He could not be deceived, and Teal'c would not try. "Speak."

"I am not at peace because my brothers are not at peace," he said.

"Humans," Bra'tac huffed. "Hear this from an old man. Neither of us understands the other's ways, and few enough wish to. Is this so unusual for death in their ranks?"

"She was our..." he paused to consider the words. The Jaffa word for _sister_ was most often used _between_ sisters, not a brother and his female sibling. And the connotations were wrong – in fact, the word was seldom used outside of childhood. It was not a word to describe a warrior.

Thousands of years of Goa'uld-encouraged Jaffa patriarchy had stricken feminine military words from use. The Goa'uld wanted the Jaffa to flourish in numbers, providing more troops for their eternal wars. This could hardly be accomplished if the childbearers spent their time warring – or worse, were killed before reproducing. He'd faced this difficulty with Ishta and her Hak'tyl as well.

"Samantha Carter was a part of our family," he said, using the term for a family of warriors rather than a family of bloodlines. "Had she been merely a fellow soldier things would have been different."

"These humans do not expect death as we do. One cannot fight the demon and step over its body," he said, quoting an old proverb. "Nor can one conquer unpleasant events as long as one resists them. Have you told them this?"

Teal'c looked darkly to the stars. "They would not listen."

Bra'tac chuckled, leaning into their walk again. "So, tell me, old friend. Do you believe we too will fall to Anubis' wiles? Is death soon before us?"

Once again, his instincts had been called upon – and once again, they gave no clear answer. He was not disappointed. Instincts woke in the tension between charged moments, telling the hand where to go in an instant, guiding the eye, alerting the heart. They had little sight into the future, as vast and mutable as it was. "I do not know."

"Nor do I." Bra'tac smiled thinly, the moon's cold light glinting off the silver of his hair and the angle of his lips. "But if we are, if Anubis has truly become so powerful, we would find no shame in standing alongside the Tau'ri to thwart him. Their luck is good, even when their discipline is lacking."

"Indeed." Teal'c smiled as well.

"You may carry that message back to them," Bra'tac said.


	10. Skirmishes

Hammond didn't keep a list of people he'd rather not see. Some of his subordinates did – Edwards kept a public list, taped to his locker, as a wry jab at coworkers and a relatively inoffensive way of airing grievances. O'Neill often made reference to one, though his probably didn't exist in actual written form. But Hammond's own sense of humor didn't tend in that direction, and keeping one for any other reason would be petty.

Still, if he _had_, and if he could spare the time _now_ to keep it up to date, award-winning documentarist Emmet Bregman would have featured near the top. His enthusiasm, which proved staggeringly noninfectious, only reinforced that theory.

Colonel Tom Rundell, Cheyenne Mountain Complex Public Affairs Liaison, chosen for this task because the extent of his patience rivaled the length of his title, escorted Bregman into Hammond's office with a look that said he'd steeled himself for the long haul. "General Hammond, sir? This is Mr. Bregman."

Hammond nodded with the bare minimum of civility. Bregman answered with a grin and a proffered hand. "I'm very excited to be here, sir."

Hammond ignored both. "You may find that not many people here share your excitement, Mr. Bregman."

Bregman read disdain between the lines. "I see," he said. "Well, I'm sorry about that."

"I'm sure you've realized," Hammond said sharply, "that the president has given me broad discretion in ensuring the security of this facility."

Bregman snorted. "Well, I've already been frisked three times on my way down here–"

"We're all very busy here. And it's my interpretation of these orders," Hammond tapped a folder on his desk, "that you're not allowed to film any ongoing activities until they've been cleared by the Pentagon."

"So what exactly does that mean, General?" Bregman said, poorly feigning civility. "What exactly do you do here that isn't an 'ongoing activity?'"

Hammond didn't take the bait. "In light of that, I've taken the liberty to setting up an interview schedule for you with members of the SGC staff and personnel. One of the libraries on Level 18 will be made available to you, and one of the VIP rooms has been converted into an editing studio."

"That's very kind of you, but I'd rather set up my own shots, if you don't mind," Bregman said.

Hammond ignored the request entirely. "Colonel Rundell will be available to you to answer any questions or clarify any points," he said.

"Of course. 'Clarify.'" Bregman carefully phrased his next argument, then discarded the draft entirely in favor of something more direct. "Of course what you really meant to say there was _enforce_, but we'll just pretend–"

"Mr. Bregman." Hammond closed the orders. "Your presence here is highly unorthodox, and I will not allow it to interfere in the operations of this base, especially not now. If that requires more structure than you're used to, I'm sorry."

"Right. Look, General." Bregman advanced, putting one hand on his chest. "I'm a _journalist_. I cut through bullcrap for a _living_. I was asked here by the President of the United States to document _what is going on_ here, his words. Real life. Reality. Not a carefully-controlled, military-censored, artificially watered-down fairytale of what's actually going on. Those are my orders. And I have every intention of carrying them out."

They stood at a standoff, neither giving quarter. After a moment, Bregman relaxed.

"But, hey, interviews. Good a place to start as any. I'll have Mr. Rundell–"

"Colonel," Hammond corrected.

"I'll have Colonel Rundell give me the grand tour, and then we'll get started. Thanks for your time."

He tromped out of the office without waiting for a dismissal. Hammond stretched his hands, counting down from ten. Rundell shot him a look of pained commiseration before following Bregman out.

* * *

"'Taken the liberty of setting up an interview schedule,' has he?" Emmet asked. "_Taken_ the liberty is right. How am I supposed to make a compelling documentary if–"

"General Hammond is making considerable allowances for you in a very difficult time," Rundell said. Emmet snorted.

"Is this about that sitrep the President had to call in to get me access to?" he asked. "I don't know how you can think that my presence here is somehow going to compromise the security of the planet, not with all you do here. Tom, please." He stalked down the hall, adopting a confidential tone. "We both know I can't be more disruptive than the crises these soldiers–"

"Airmen," Rundell corrected. "We're the United States Air Force."

Emmet rolled his eyes at the distinction. "Airmen, then. Than what these _airmen_ deal with every day. Whatever is going on, I don't know that it's more than a convenient excuse for you to avoid facing the camera. I'm not going to stand for it. The president's not going to stand for it."

"What you need to understand, Mr. Bregman–"

"Why don't you call me Emmet?" Emmet interrupted, trying to peer through an iron door. "What's this?"

"Storage," Rundell said. "These men and women are doing the jobs they were trained for. It's not their job to be put in front of a camera."

"Well, it's my job to put them there," Emmet said. "Maybe it should be their job. Free speech, free information, the freedom to know what is happening to the world – that's what I'm trying to represent here."

"As far as I'm concerned, you're here strictly to document–"

"I know what I'm here for."

Rundell nodded. "We've got some time before the first interview is scheduled–"

"I'm sorry," Emmet cut in. "'We've'?"

"I'll be sitting in on all interview sessions."

"Is that really necessary?"

"We feel that it is."

"Well, I understand – uh, a bit – where you might be coming from on that, from a military standpoint," he said, "but from a documentarist's standpoint? No. No, no no. Bad idea. We've got the camera, we've got the mic, and we've got the interviewer, and that's more than enough for most people. We don't need the Pentagon Review Board sitting in as well, if you know what I mean." Emmet peered down a hallway as they passed it. "What's down there?"

"Storage," Rundell answered. Emmet couldn't decide whether or not he was lying.

"Yeah. What I'm saying is a little bit of pressure, carefully applied, is good – it gets things moving, gets good reactions. But we don't need to act like this is an inquiry in a court martial. Get me? So I think it would be best if you didn't sit in."

"I've been asked to oversee–"

"Yeah, I'll bet you have." Emmet stopped, turning to face Rundell. "Look, Tom, I think maybe we got off to a bad start. And I'm willing to go along with these scheduled interviews in the name of – what shall we say – _cooperation_. We both know that a documentary has to consist of more than that, but we'll leave that argument for later. But since I'm doing this – playing this little game for you – I'd like you to do me a favor and sit out of this first round. Just until they get comfortable with me. Okay?"

Rundell didn't look impressed. "That may take longer than you think," he warned.

"I get that feeling," Emmet said.

Rundell folded his arms, considering every aspect and, Emmet suspected, weighing it against some manual recorded in the back of his head. "I'll need to see copies of the questions you intend to ask."

"You're kidding, right?" Emmet asked.

"I have to make sure you're not going to pursue anything prejudicial to the Air Force or its–"

"I'm not," Emmet said.

"I'll need to see a copy."

Emmet considered. "...fine," he agreed at length. "Is there a computer I can use?"

"This way," Rundell said, leading him down toward the computer labs. Emmet nodded and followed. An hour of careful consideration later he printed out the question sets – along with different, much abbreviated versions handed over to Rundell, who proofread them carefully and cleared them for use.

* * *

For Jack, the day was marked by the usual mix of anticipation and stubborn anticlimax. Somewhere out there, Anubis approached. But not quickly enough that anyone could tell. The scientists dabbled with options, stymied by the fact that no one knew what to prepare for. Jack worked on administrative paperwork ludicrously removed from present concerns.

It came as a relief when Teal'c came back through the Stargate, though Jack wasn't there to meet him. (He'd been wandering the base, checking with various department heads and kicking metaphorical tires.) He caught Teal'c outside the locker room, moving in quickly on any possible information. "What do you have for us?"

Teal'c nodded to him, unfazed by the lack of greeting. "The Jaffa are prepared to fight by the side of the Tau'ri," he said simply.

Jack waited. "...well, that's... good, I guess," he said. "What about news?"

"There is little." Teal'c remained impassive. "Anubis sweeps through the galaxy unchallenged. If he continues his current path, his fleet will arrive here within the next weeks."

"How many weeks?"

"One, perhaps two. No more."

"And that's adjusted for Mountain Time?"

Teal'c didn't laugh.

"Right," Jack said. "As far as we know, he's taking out the other snakeheads first?"

"So it would seem."

"Any chance they'll figure something out in time to save themselves, and possibly us?"

"Anubis has experienced a sudden leap in prowess," Teal'c said. "The Goa'uld advance only by stealing the technology of others. Without access to Anubis' knowledge, it is unlikely they could mount a defense."

"Never thought I'd wish those guys were _smarter_," Jack groused. "Hey, you seen Daniel yet? I checked by his lab, but he wasn't in."

"According to General Hammond's memo," Teal'c said, "he is currently scheduled to interview with Emmet Bregman." Teal'c's voice sank to scorn on the director's name. "Did you not attend yours?"

"Huh?" Jack asked.

Teal'c raised an eyebrow. "Would it not be wise to dispense with this as quickly as possible?"

"Point out to me the 'wise' one running this," Jack said. "Anyway, I'm going to hunt down Daniel. You've briefed Hammond?"

"I have."

"Okay. Good." He waved. "See you around."

* * *

Daniel had planned on taking a few moments to compose himself before walking into the library-turned-interview-room on Level 18. Instead he was ambushed by three men, a large camera and a boom mic as soon as he stepped out of the elevator, with the result that rather than introducing himself civilly and inquiring as to how their project was going his first appearance on tape was punctuated by an undignified "Wah!"

"Dr. Jackson, I presume," the lead man said, slipping under the boom and extending a hand. "Emmet Bregman."

"Hi," Daniel said, still looking askance at the equipment cornering him. He slipped into the hall, evading the boom and Bregman. "I thought you were supposed to be in General Library 2."

"Well, I just thought we'd meet you on the way," Bregman said. "Make sure you were coming. All that."

"Well, I'm coming," Daniel said, with an annoyed glance at the camera.

"So I can see," Bregman said. "It's just that the last meeting I was supposed to have – Colonel O'Neill, you know–"

_(That explains it.)_ He coughed deep in this throat. _(I wonder if he took the time to __**tell**__ Bregman that he'd rather be interrogated by a Goa'uld?)_ "Jack's been very busy the past few days," he said.

"Word around the base is that he's not on active duty," Bregman said.

"Well, that's not–" Daniel tried to wrestle the facts into something credible, digestible, and inoffensive to Jack's pride. "He's not on deployment rotation. He's still got a lot of work to occupy him here. A _lot_ of work," he emphasized. _(Many fascinating jobs I can't actually specify. Really.)_

"I'm sure," Bregman said, in a tone that said he wasn't. "Well, in any case, why don't we begin?"

_(Why __**don't**__ we.)_ "Was that my first question?" he joked feebly.

Bregman gave a little, unamused chuckle. "Uh-huh. Right. We'll hop right in." He flipped open his folder. "I guess we should start with the question everyone – at least, everyone on my staff – wants to ask. You've actually _died_, haven't you?"

Daniel felt, for just a moment, as though he'd been caught in headlights. Bregman had obviously never adopted "tact" into his vocabulary. This boded ill. "Uh, yeah. ...a few times too many, if you ask me," Daniel said.

"So what's it like?"

Daniel adjusted his glasses. "In my job? Generally unpleasant. Painful, excruciating, all that."

"No – I'm sorry. I meant actually _being dead_."

"Oh." He stuck his hands in his pockets. "Actually, I don't remember too much. Usually it's just I get hit with something, I wake up in a sarcophagus. Y'know."

"But there was a time when you spent a year – I'm sorry, what was the word? Transcended?"

Daniel tried to get a glimpse of what was written in Bregman's folder, but couldn't. "Ascended."

"Right. 'Ascended.' Could you tell us a little about that?"

Daniel pushed open the library door, checking to see if anyone was inside. Unfortunately, no one was. No diversion. "I don't actually remember much of it."

Bregman looked unimpressed. "Well, in your mission file, it says – and I'm quoting – that your 'human body transformed into energy.' Can you tell us a bit more about that?"

"Nope. That's about where it gets fuzzy."

"Fuzzy." Bregman shook his head. "Okay. Okay! Let's try this," he said, ignoring the camera crew as they maneuvered the camera and boom into the library, filming all the while. "I understand that there is another energy person here, on this base, right now. Is that right?"

"Um... I wouldn't say 'another,'" Daniel said. "Satya didn't get to be an energy being by ascending – I mean, as far as we know. Well, truth be told, we know comparatively little about it. Which is..." he reigned in his enthusiasm, glancing at the camera warily. "...uh, complicated. And really neither here nor there."

"I see, I see." Bregman switched tracks. "Satya? Is that–"

"The entity," Daniel said.

"I see. And you would be, for lack of a better word, its... keeper?"

Daniel glared over his glasses. "Liaison."

"Well, tell me, is there any chance we could get it – uh, her? Him? – to answer a few questions for us? Really show the world what it is you do here. Contact with alien races."

"Look, I don't know what you may have been told," Daniel said, "but it's not a specimen here for you to study, or showcase, or whatever. It's an intelligent being, and it deserves dignity."

"We're not trying to take away anyone's dignity, Dr. Jackson," Bregman said. "On the contrary. But we are trying to paint an accurate picture of life here, of the extraordinary things you do, and it certainly qualifies as extraordinary."

Daniel sighed, finding the nearest chair and sitting. "You have no idea what you're dealing with," he said simply. "This entity is representative of a race who for some unmeasured amount of time – possibly millennia – have been confined to the inside of a pulsar, without any sense of who or what they are. What questions could you _begin_ to ask that for your documentary?"

"Well, I was thinking of starting with 'how are you liking Earth,'" Bregman jibed. At Daniel's withering look, he backpedaled. "I'm sorry. I can see how that wouldn't be funny."

"Can you."

Bregman dropped the subject. "SG-1," he said. "What can you tell me about SG-1?"

"SG-1?" Daniel looked at his folder. "You've probably read all about us."

"Mission reports and evaluations, yes. I want your views, Doctor. Something a bit more human." He coughed. "No offense intended toward any and all alien members–"

"What do you want to know?" he asked.

"Well, you must be very close with all the members of your team."

_(...was that a question?)_ "Yyyes – I mean, we've worked together for quite a few years, in... extraordinary situations," he said. "I'm sorry, I'm not sure what you're asking."

"Well. Reading from your own file, your parents were killed in an accident when you were a child," Bregman said.

_(...no tact __**or**__ grace.)_ He flinched, unpleasantly sure the camera had caught it. "Can we not talk about that?"

Bregman seemed surprised. _(Of course! Who __**wouldn't**__ relish the opportunity to talk about their parents' deaths in front of millions of people?)_ Daniel thought. He suddenly, desperately wanted to escape.

"I'm sorry," Bregman said. "I was just going to say, with no natural–" he discarded the sentence halfway through. "Would you say you've come to see SG-1, or the SGC in a broader sense, as a kind of surrogate family?"

Daniel made a sick little sound in the back of his throat. Discussing these things with a stranger would be bad enough were he _not_ being taped. "Well, they're certainly – I _consider_ them a family, yes. There's no 'surrogate' about it."

"One of the founding members of SG-1 was just recently killed in action, is that correct?" He checked his folder. "Major Samantha Carter?

Daniel squirmed. "Sam Carter. Yeah."

"Would you be willing to speak a bit about that?"

He glanced toward the camera. "I don't – er, what do you want me to say?"

"Well, if I'm reading this right, is seems she was a decorated officer, a brilliant physicist–"

"Astrophysicist."

"–astrophysicist. Sorry, yes. Definitely the kind of person you would want around now that the real threat may be, as I understand it, at our very doorstep."

"Excuse me?" Daniel asked, hackles rising.

"The very brief, very censored sitrep I was given mentioned that an Anubis–"

"Yes, Anubis is a _threat_, now more than ever, but..." he scrabbled for words. Bregman's prompt had struck him profoundly the wrong way – he blacked out the camera, Bregman's newest attempts at questioning, and focused down onto the heart of the matter as he saw it. "I think it would be a mistake – a very big mistake – to classify this as 'the' real threat. In the _years_ in which the Stargate Program has operated, we've faced threats just as immediate_,_ countless times – several of which, I might add, we only survived because of her."

"Of course, Dr. Jackson. I didn't mean to imply–"

"That's not to say – I mean, I can't downplay the danger Anubis poses, both to Earth and to the state of freedom across our galaxy, and I'd do anything to have her back, now more than ever, but we also can't downplay the impact she's had on the program this far."

Bregman nodded. "I understand–"

"And certainly, we would be very, _very_ lucky to have her, but even with her being gone the work she's done thus far has proved and I'm sure will continue to prove vital to–"

"Dr. Jackson!" Bregman interrupted.

Daniel ground to an unhappy halt.

Bregman fumbled with his folders, checking with his cameramen. Daniel shifted in his seat.

"Maybe we should take a short break," Bregman suggested.

Daniel felt ready to implode. "...yeah. Maybe we should."

* * *

Level 18 housed a number of the smaller labs and libraries – everything that didn't explode, as the scientists on Level 19 were wont to say. Except for light research and bothering Daniel, Jack didn't have much cause to frequent the level. A fact which apparently did not go unnoticed by its denizens.

"Colonel. I didn't expect to see you down here."

Jack turned to see McKay approaching, lab coat over one elbow and several treatises on things Jack didn't care about in his arm. "Looking for Daniel," Jack said.

"Oh. Dr. Jackson is in one of the libraries with the documentary crew." McKay waved down the hall, as if Jack was the one who had trouble finding his way around. "I haven't had a chance to do my interview yet."

"Sorry to hear that," Jack said, before the sentence caught up with him. "_You're_ doing an interview?"

McKay looked put off. "Well, I have been working with the program for years," he said. "And I've been in and out of the SGC."

"Whatever," Jack said, still wondering if it would be worth the risk of being caught on camera to see if he could spring Daniel. "Aren't you supposed to be in the labs?"

McKay thought for a second. "No. Why would I be?"

"I don't know, trying to find a way to defend the planet or something?" Jack suggested. "We've got a little situation here."

"To protect Earth against any _possible_ Ancient weapon Anubis might come up with, not to mention the full force of his fleet," McKay said. "Hm. Let's see. I think our options in that department are basically to shut down the Stargate and move the planet out of this plane of existence."

Jack didn't bother to temper his sarcasm. Or his annoyance. "You can do that?"

Neither did McKay. "No."

"_Dang_." He snapped his fingers. "And it was _such_ a good plan." He gave up on the library. "If you run into Daniel, could you tell him that I want to see him?"

"Oh, I'm not staying down here," McKay said.

Jack exhaled, the air rattling into a growl as it moved. "Fine. I'll find him later." He headed for the elevator again.

"Colonel!" McKay stopped him before he could escape. He turned back.

"Yes?"

McKay shed his glib arrogance, repositioning his materials. "About Major Carter," he began.

_(I'm not going to enjoy this, am I?)_ Jack wondered. "What about her?"

"I'd've said this earlier, but considering I basically found out when I got transferred here," he began. "And since no one thought I might appreciate coming to the memorial–"

Jack stared, trying to hear anything other than overwhelming arrogance in the scientist's words. "The funeral was for family and friends," he interrupted, automatically moving to put him in his place. "_Which_ were you?"

"Well, I–" McKay fumbled to a stop. "I could'a paid my respects."

Jack snorted. "Right. Respects."

Now it was McKay's turn to take offense. "Look, _Colonel_," he snapped. "I know you're not a scientist by any stretch of the word, and I know Major Carter and I had our differences, but part of science is a healthy amount of controversy."

"Yes, well, in my profession, working together is more important."

"She was a scientist, Colonel."

"She was a Major in the US Air Force!" Jack shot.

"Well, unless she had secret magical superpowers I wasn't aware of, I think the scientific world's lost more than the military one," McKay shot back. He shook his head. "I just – I wanted to say I was sorry."

Jack recognized this as a good time to back away gracefully.

No one had ever accused him of an overabundance of grace. "To who?"

McKay glared. "The world at large," he said, and it was clear sincerity time was over.

Jack had almost readied a retort when a slamming door interrupted him. Jack and McKay both looked up to see Daniel, attention lost elsewhere. He nearly collided with them on his way down the hall, slipping between them with a muttered "'scuse me" before continuing on his way.

"Daniel!" Jack called after him.

Daniel stormed off without breaking stride.

Jack drew back, shaking himself out of his argument. "Excuse me," he said, and jogged after. McKay shook his head and continued with his business.

Jack made it around the corner, but not in time to see where Daniel had gone. Of course, there were few places he _would_ go – as Jack didn't expect him to be in the Mechanics or Chemistry and Geology libraries, that left the Archaeology and Linguistics library, his lab, or another level. His money was on A&L.

He approached cautiously, listening for anything egregiously wrong. _(Door closed,)_ he noticed first. _(Bad sign.)_ He swung it open, checking for traps and obstacles. "Daniel?"

Daniel was already obscured behind a stack of books half a meter tall. "What?"

Jack slipped in, closing the door behind him. The Archaeology and Linguistics Library wasn't the most private place on base, but Daniel's lab was... otherwise occupied. He doubted Daniel would air his grievance – whatever it was – to the entity. _(Well, we'll see how fast we can wrap this up.)_ "What's eating you?"

"That obvious, huh?"

Jack took a stool. "Well, given that you ran down two people in the hallway without looking up..." He cleared his throat. "I'd say so, yeah. What's on your mind?"

"I was thinking about Sam," Daniel said. "...well, actually, that's not true; I was thinking about what people would think about Sam."

"And this is bad?"

"Yes!" He dropped into a chair with bone-jarring force. "What did she die for? From a historical perspective, what came of it? No one who was there would _think_ about discounting it, but that's talking about a very small population."

Once again, Daniel's line of thought lost Jack ten words in. "I guess?"

"I don't know why it bothers me so much, if no one's ever going to know anyway. I mean, sure, maybe in fifty years the Pentagon will declassify everything and by then she'll be – we'll all be – what, a footnote? 'And these were the pioneers of the Stargate program, who were later superceded by X and Y and Z,' and you know, even that doesn't bother me so much, because that's the way history _works_. But somewhere – _somewhere_ in whatever version of history gets written there will be a little entry headed 'Samantha Carter' and it will say that she died on some rock in the middle of nowhere on a little side mission without any real importance and I am _not_ fine with that!"

Jack silently wondered at the outburst. _(Just when I thought he was coping. This is moody even for Daniel.)_ "What _prompted_ this?"

"Bregman!"

Jack's mood went from bemused concern to fury in two syllables flat.

"What if he's right?" Daniel asked. "Maybe the President is right – maybe there should be someone here to put a human face on this."

"Daniel, as far as we know humanity will no longer exist in a few more weeks."

Daniel glared. "You're missing the point."

"Remember what I said about perspective?" Jack asked. "Never mind. I'll talk to Bregman."

Daniel's expression turned from sullen to alarmed. "Jack–"

"Just _talk_," Jack reassured. "Nothing drastic. For now."

"I really don't think that's a good–" Daniel began, but not fast enough. "–idea," he finished to the empty doorway. He put his head down. "Oh, boy."

After a second Jack stepped back in. "Hey! Daniel!"

Daniel looked up.

"What's news?"

"What?" Daniel asked.

"Is anything interesting going on with your entity?"

"When did it become _my_ entity?"

"Since you adopted it and it moved into your lab," Jack said. "Anything interesting?"

"To me, or to you?" Daniel knew the answer. "No. Nothing helpful."

Jack snapped his fingers. "Stay on it," he called, making another rapid exit.

"I will," Daniel called back. As Jack's footsteps faded in the direction of the general library, he wondered if he should follow in the name of damage control. He quickly decided against it.

* * *

Jack did manage to take a moment to steel himself before rapping on the library's door, entering the room with his best full-Colonel glare. "'Scuse me!" he burst, louder than strictly necessary. "_Mr._ Bregman. You happen to have a moment?"

"Colonel O'Neill!" Bregman exclaimed, utterly unintimidated. "We missed you earlier."

"Was that today?" Jack bluffed. Without waiting for the retort, he turned to the cameramen. "Why don't you boys step outside," he suggested.

"No – no you don't. Stay right there," Bregman said. "What? Colonel, whatever you're going to say, why not catch it on camera? Or are you about to impart some – I don't know, state secrets or something?"

"Well," Jack said, "if you really want to record my kicking your ass for posterity," Jack began.

"Oh," Bregman said. "I see I've managed to get under your skin too, Colonel–"

"Do you realize that I could shoot you any time I felt like it?" Jack asked. "I'd just have to fill out some paperwork?"

"You know, I've heard that joke before," Bregman said. "It's funny." He glanced at the camera crew. "What are you doing? Roll. Roll!"

The cameraman brought his camera up, recording a second and a half of Jack's annoyance before he put his hand over the lens and forcefully repositioned it downward. "Look, Bregman. I really have no idea why the President thought this was a good idea. Nor do I really care. But the memo _I_ got said that you weren't going to interfere with operations here."

"Have I been interfering?"

Jack pointed out the door. "There is a very large piece of alien technology a few floors below us that requires a lot of attention, more now than ever. And everyone here needs to have their minds on it, nothing else."

"So you think my being here is intrusive," Bregman said.

"That would be the nice way of putting it."

Bregman spread his hands. "Well, I'm sorry, but this is what the president asked me to do."

"The president asked you to come here and upset people," Jack said.

Bregman looked surprised. "Oh, is this about–" He hiked a thumb at the corridor. "I apologized to Dr. Jackson. I think something I said set him off, though I certainly didn't intend–"

Jack waved for him to stop, disgusted. Bregman had an attitude only possible in someone who'd been somewhere totally removed for the last month. "Look, Hammond must have given you a list, or something."

"A list?"

"Of things you can't ask about."

"Oh. That. That was actually a Colonel Rundell..." Bregman looked around as if expecting him to come crawling out from between the shelves. "Which I think is crap. Anyway, Major Carter wasn't on it. I just asked a few questions. Certainly nothing implicating."

Jack's train of thought derailed, killing the conversation in an instant. Bregman thought he was worried about – come to think of it, what _was_ Bregman implying? Or trying not to imply? And was this also something he should be angry about? He didn't know the answer, but defaulted to _yes_. "Let me just make one thing perfectly clear–"

A siren rang out.

Bregman looked up. "What is that? Offworld activation. That's happened before–"

_(...crap. What now?)_ "Don't worry about it," Jack said, heading for the door.

The air twisted.

A pulse travelled through the room wall to wall, distorting light like water. "Should I worry about that?" Bregman asked.

Jack cursed under his breath. "You stay here," he yelled, launching into the hall.

"You, you, follow me!" Bregman yelled to his crew, and ran after.

* * *

Jack would have made better time if the air hadn't thickened like tar around him, moving away from the Gateroom in slow, windless waves. He tried to run through them with as much success as running underwater – Bregman and his crew fell behind, weighed down by their equipment. He bypassed the elevators entirely – SGC rules advised never to use elevators in the event of fire, catastrophic basewide malfunction or alien attack – and ran down the stairs, resorting to ten-at-a-leap jumps when he figured the compression of the air would cushion him.

By the time he made it to the briefing room hallway the floor was shaking beneath him. Every wave shivered through the concrete. He poured all his effort into the last metres between himself and the control room, sucking in air that seemed surprisingly low in oxygen.

"What the hell is this?" he roared over the tremors as soon as he reached the control room doors. Through the observation windows, the Stargate shone – the wormhole emitted the same hot blue of an alcohol flame, bouncing against the back wall. The Iris trembled over the event horizon. "Sergeant, shut it off!"

"Trying, sir," Davis yelled back. Jack struggled against the compression, fording to the consoles. "Whatever this is it's playing havoc with – with everything, sir. These are earthquakes, honest to god _earthquakes_ it's causing!"

From the door, a panting McKay made his appearance. "More than that–" he yelled, "they're – increasing in intensity. If we don't shut this thing off–"

"Well, if you have any suggestions!" The coffee pot jittered off its stand, crashing to the floor. Jack tried to jump, but the compression pushed him back; coffee sloshed around his boot before regressing in slow waves toward the wall.

McKay stared through the window. "Is it supposed to do that?"

"Is what supposed–" Jack looked out as the Iris distended. "..._damn_!"

The lights blew out.

McKay yelped in the instant of black before the emergency lights came on. The glass blew back with the tidal force, whipping past him against the wall and through the door. Light flashed down the corridor, arcing into the room.

Lightning blew out the windows, screaming from the hallway over the technician's heads. More glass flew back as the lightning raced through the gateroom and impacted the Stargate, energy tearing back through the wires. A flash detonated, bright as a warhead. Everyone not already under cover ducked.

The siren shut down, and the compression let up.

Silence descended with sudden violence. Jack lowered his arm from his face, lacerations stinging against the bone. "Everyone all right?" he called, too loudly for the sudden calm.

Davis picked himself up shakily, tapping his computer as it rebooted on emergency power. "I think the Stargate is inactive," he said.

"You think?" McKay asked.

"I'm sure." He looked out of the blasted window, to where the 'gate glowed a light silver. "Was that–?"

"I think so," Jack said, and took himself down the stairs.

The glow on the Stargate coalesced, shimmering along the inner ring. Jack approached it warily, glancing back at the control room.

A thin tendril extended toward him. He steeled himself, holding utterly still as it passed through his face.

He got a sense without words to pin it down. Something terribly wrong with everything – physics edging toward its thresholds of mutability, threatening to go over the edge. It had come through the Stargate, through the wormhole. The entity had stopped it, plugged the hole. As an afterthought, realized only after touching his mind, it apologized for the damage.

"...no; you did good. I guess," Jack said, pulling back. For the seconds when it'd touched his mind, he'd _understood_, in implicit detail, what it had meant. It had shaken him. If this was what Carter had occupied herself with, he was glad he'd never caught on – everything he knew as immutable physical law had become soft at the edges, wobbly and uncertain. He looked back up at the control room. "Can somebody get Daniel down here?"

One of the techs gestured helplessly to the the intercom mic. "There's a lot of damage here, sir–"

"Send someone after him!" Jack yelled up. "He's – for crying–" he stopped yelling. Trusting the Stargate not to activate or explode in his absence, he dragged himself toward the stairs and laboriously up them.

In the control room, he surveyed the damage as best he could. None of the monitors were online save one – it read an unknown error in bright, flashing red. Several had blown out or burnt out entirely. One, in the row near the ceiling, discharged a steady stream of smoke.

Broken glass littered the consoles and floor, glittering in the emergency lights. The spilled coffee had lapped up the wall, staining it brown. The darkness, and the light down the hall, only added to the gloom.

Jack tapped one of the techs. "Daniel," he said. "Level 18. One of the libraries. He's probably on his way already, but if he's not–"

"Yes, sir," the tech said, slipping away.

Jack put one hand on the back of her chair, sucking in air. From his seat in front of the main displays, Walter paused in his halfhearted attempts to clear his keyboard. "Are you all right, sir?"

He blinked. Why his hearing had chosen that moment to tunnel... actually, he realized, it wasn't just his hearing. "Fine," he said. "...bit winded." _(Too much running. And I think my lungs aren't working.)_

"Should I call Dr. Fraiser?" Walter asked.

Jack jerked up. "_No_," he said. "I'm good," despite the fact he wasn't. He transferred more of his weight onto the chair back. "...when Daniel gets in, see if he can tell us what just happened," he said. "I'm pretty sure that thing knows."

Walter responded, but Jack wasn't listening. Instead he hauled himself up the stairs into the briefing room – mercifully devoid of actual people – and collapsed into one of the seats, putting his head down while his blood chorused in his ears.

_(Note to self. No more running.)_

"Colonel?"

Jack sat up, taking care not to let his head spin. "General?"

Hammond didn't ask why Jack seemed to be taking a nap in the middle of a situation. He probably figured Jack had his reasons. "What's going on?"

"Anubis," Jack hazarded. _(What else?)_ "Wormhole. Weapon. Entity. Contained, for the moment." Even if he knew, he felt singularly unable to form a coherent sentence. He made a face. "Where were you, sir?"

"Commissary," Hammond said darkly. "I would have been here sooner, but I was ambushed by Mr. Bregman."

"Not intrusive my ass," Jack muttered. "General, request permission to beat the crap out of that guy."

"You're not alone in that sentiment," Hammond said. "Unfortunately, our orders haven't changed."

"We just got _attacked_! The president can't think this will work. It'd be like–"

"Film cameras on the beaches of Normandy?" Hammond offered.

Jack stumbled. "...point."

"We're not getting rid of him that easily," Hammond said.

Jack stood, albeit slowly. At least the walls had chosen spots and decided to stay there – they'd been indecisive earlier, which made them hard to walk between. "Daniel's going to talk to the... thing," he said, gesturing at the room behind him. "Apparently the entity can shut down an incoming wormhole. That might be useful."

"I'll meet him in the Gateroom," Hammond said.

"Good idea. I'm going to go take care of other things," Jack said. "See if I can keep Bregman out of trouble. I have a feeling he got some of this on tape."

Hammond winced at the shared headache. "Please," he said.

* * *

Bregman had, in fact, gotten quite a lot of footage. Unfortunately for him, though fortunately for the sanity of the SGC administration, most was of distortions in the hallways and corridors. The entity had flashed overhead, but too quickly for the camera team to register or refocus on – and, not moving at the speed of lightning at the best of times and further slowed by the alien compression, they hadn't followed fast enough to get a second chance. By the time they'd made it anywhere near Level 28 they'd been intercepted by SFs, who had quickly escorted them to the VIP editing station and asked that they stay there "until the all-clear."

Bregman suspected that there was no such thing in SGC operations, but consoled himself with the knowledge that they had, on tape, evidence of what he suspected was an alien attack – no matter how tangential to the actual action it proved. Things were looking up.

His crew had already loaded it into the computers when a knock sounded at the door. "Suppose that's our 'all clear?'" he asked, spinning his pen over one thumb. "Come in!"

The door opened.

Bregman craned his neck – and jumped out of his chair. "You must be Teal'c," he said. "Wow. I hadn't expected you to stop by here. Come in, by all means! Emmet Bregman," he said, extending one hand. "I'm sorry, that – whatever it was ran over your interview time. Is that–" he glanced back at his crew. "Is that why you're here?"

Teal'c stepped in, not otherwise acknowledging Bregman's greeting. "Colonel O'Neill has asked that I ensure you cause no problems," he said.

Bregman's enthusiasm stalled. "Did he, now."

Teal'c nodded.

"Well, I suppose as long as you're here–" Bregman looked around for the camera.

"He did not ask me to answer any questions while I was here."

"Of _course_ not." Bregman sat down, patience expiring. "So exactly how long did Colonel O'Neill tell you to keep me out of trouble?"

"He did not specify," Teal'c answered, and Bregman wasn't sharp enough to catch the humor in his tone.

"So how long are you planning on standing there?"

"Though I understand you have not been given specific curfew," Teal'c said, "human adults generally seek between six and nine hours of sleep per night for optimal health."

Bregman resisted the urge to ask if he always sounded like an encyclopedia. Wouldn't do to get off on the wrong foot, after all. Or at least the wronger one. "You're going to stand there until I leave."

Teal'c neither confirmed nor denied that statement.

Bregman crossed his arms. "Either you're covering for something someone doesn't want me to know – very subtle, by the way, if that's the case – or this is Colonel O'Neill's idea of a joke." Teal'c raised an eyebrow. Bregman ground his teeth. "...and given what I know of the Colonel, which is admittedly not as much as I'd like, I think that may be the most likely explanation."

Teal'c eyebrow remained raised.

Bregman stood up. "All right. I'm just going to–"

"Perhaps you should remain here," Teal'c suggested.

"So, let me just ask this. Are you my liaison or my jailer?"

Teal'c didn't say.

Bregman looked around the VIP room. The bed had been covered with folders and tapes, the dresser removed entirely and replaced with a low table for editing equipment. It had been made abundantly clear that no one expected him or his crew to spend the night. And it was even clearer that they'd get little work done with him in the room – he couldn't imagine cutting footage with the alien's eyes upon him.

"Right. Well, I think we've done all we can today," he said. "Mr. Teal'c, I will be rescheduling your interview. Hopefully it won't get bumped again. Everyone, guys, back here, bright and early. In the mean time, go home. Good night."

Scowling at everything, he blustered off.

* * *

The night passed without obvious incident, in that the SGC was still there when everyone woke up. Still, everyone faced an early morning – the previous day's attacks had proved that time was of the essence. As the scientists insisted they didn't have enough data to know what exactly had happened – ten or fifteen different theories circulated, most bearing no resemblance to each other – Jack had realized that they had no viable means of defense. Save one.

Carter said something that stuck with him over a year ago, the last time Anubis had used a weapon on the 'gate. _"Sometimes you have a way of seeing things at their simplest."_

Simplest. He snorted. And she'd had a way of cutting through the confusion, the red herrings, the false leads – of seeing the heart of the matter and seeing the point where one precise _push_ would set things rolling. She'd known methods of inquiry, of analyzing situations and data. He didn't – not in these applications. If he'd ever managed to inspire her, he'd been totally unaware of how.

So maybe he could see things in a different light. She'd been the one to tell that he did. She _approached_ things differently, and the SGC lacked and needed that now. Unusual intuition.

Well, if there was one thing Daniel had said...

He didn't care for the entity one way or another. He recognized it as a potential threat and a potential asset. He didn't consider it a replacement for Carter – forced into that role, it made a very poor substitute. But it was something who could see things maybe no one else could. He wouldn't write it off just yet.

Oh-six-hundred found him lurking by the Level 18 elevators, guessing – correctly – that Daniel would be down any moment. His vigilance did not go unrewarded; the doors opened scant minutes later, discharging a less-than-happy Dr. Jackson.

Daniel didn't look surprised to see him. Nor did he stop to chat. "Hey," he said on his way down the hall.

"Hey," Jack answered, noting Daniel's annoyance. "'Good morning' is usually a nice way to start."

"What'd you want?"

_(That's unusually terse.)_ "I wanted to ask your friend a few questions."

"Satya, Jack. It's not like I control it. Not everything has to go through me."

"Well, no, not _has_ to, but..." Jack finished the sentence early. "You didn't have a particularly good night, did you?"

"My night was fine. My morning's been awful," Daniel said. "You didn't leave the base last night?"

_(It was stay in my quarters or find a driver. And since Fraiser would know if I found a driver...)_ "Didn't feel like driving all the way home," he not-quite-lied.

"You want my advice, don't leave the base for a few days," Daniel said. "Security escorted me in today. You don't want to see the protesters out there."

"What protesters?" Jack asked.

Daniel hugged his papers. "Someone's got it into their head that we're testing secret weapons down here, and no one can tell them otherwise," he said. "The Colorado Geological Survey confirmed that yesterday's 'incident' couldn't be a natural earthquake before Hammond could get a message through the bureaucracy about keeping it quiet. Now the press is targeting NORAD with demands for information and all they can do is play the National Security card, and you can imagine how well that's going over." He snorted. "I swear, they think we're setting off nukes down here. Little do they know that it's so much worse than that." He clomped down the hall, still venting. "Under different circumstances, if I didn't know what was happening, I can see myself up there with them. What are we going to say if next time we can't stop Anubis? What if he comes in ships?"

"Then I imagine it won't really matter what we say," Jack pointed out.

"Oh, here's the best part," Daniel continued. "Guess who's up there filming them?"

"You're kidding," Jack said darkly.

"Nope. Right up there with a camera crew getting shots of Security helping people through the gate." He looked at Jack, clearly put off. "You know one of them threw an egg at my car?"

"Bregman's guys?" Jack asked, surprised.

"The protesters!" Daniel stopped in front of his lab, tapping in his code while trying not to drop the papers. "I mean, I'm all for civil protest, but the key word in that is–"

He stopped.

Satya still sat in the corner, but now it appeared smaller and emitted a distinct buzz. Daniel's mind leapt to all the ways that could be a bad thing before it said _(Hello.)_

Jack jumped. "Whoa!"

"You heard that?" Daniel asked, before turning his attention to the entity. "Hello," he responded. "You look... different."

_(I am attempting to approximate your physical form,)_ Satya said. _(It is difficult.)_

"I imagine it would be," Daniel said. Beyond the fact that it now appeared more oblong than spherical, it hadn't made progress. "Uh, you're producing sound."

"It's not going to explode or anything, is it?" Jack asked.

_(You can hear this?)_

"Yes. We can."

_(Good.)_

Daniel and Jack exchanged looks. "Okay!" Daniel said. "You remember Jack."

_(Jack O'Neill, Colonel, US Air Force, __**formerly**__ retired, leader of SG-1,)_ Satya rolled off in an uncanny imitation of Jack's voice. With the words came scraps of other information – fleeting images, sensations, emotions. Daniel felt uncomfortably like he was eavesdropping on someone else's mind. _(This is your identity,)_ it said, returning to its own neutral tone. _(It was clear in you.)_

Beside him, Jack also blanched. "Can you ask it not to do that?" he asked.

Daniel shook himself out of his unease. "Satya, we don't share our identities as readily as your kind do," he said. "It's considered impolite to share someone else's without their permission." _(Not to mention it's unsettling.)_

Satya stopped buzzing, diffusing again. _(Impolite?)_

"We prefer you don't do that," Daniel not-quite-explained. He didn't have time and Jack didn't have patience for a side jaunt into civility. "Jack has some things he wants to ask you."

_(All right.)_ Daniel blinked – it must have picked up that particular phrase from him.

Jack glanced at Daniel. "Now what?"

"Just ask it," Daniel said.

Jack coughed. "All right. Ssss–"

"Satya," Daniel provided.

"Yeah. Look – we'd like you to help us."

_(You'll help me. I'll help you.)_

Jack glanced to Daniel. "Help it...?"

"Discover its identity," Daniel supplied.

"Okay! Fair trade," Jack said, rubbing one hand uneasily. "Do you know anything about Anubis?"

_(What's Anubis?)_

"Who," Daniel said. "He's a being that exists as energy on a different plane of existence than we do." He indicated himself and Jack on the _we_. "He was the one who attacked us. We think."

_(I'm not aware. I know one energy being not one of my kind,)_ it offered. _(It approached our star and later left. We did not communicate.)_

"When was that?" Jack asked.

_(Coincidental with your leaving.)_

He looked at Daniel. "Coincidental?"

"Coinciding."

"That was him!" Jack said. "How much do you know about him?"

_(I do not.)_

"Nothing?" Daniel prodded. "You don't have any idea about what he is, what kind of a... thing he might be, anything?"

_(What do you want to know?)_

"Well, first and foremost, how to beat him," Jack said.

_(Beat him?)_

"At... war," Jack tried, casting Daniel a helpless look.

"Anubis is a threat to us, and to innumerable people like us through the galaxy," Daniel translated. "But we can't stop him. We don't have the technology."

_(I don't have technology.)_

"No, but you might not need it. You stopped his attack on Earth."

"Thanks for that, by the way," Jack said.

_(I cannot stop Anubis,)_ Satya said. _(I lack data.)_

"But if you knew more, you might be able to?" Daniel asked. "Or at least help us devise a way to stop him?"

_(Possibly.)_

"Okay. Thanks," Jack said. "Sartre, good to meet – _see_ you. Again."

"Satya," Daniel corrected automatically, though by then Jack was out the door. He performed a few facial gymnastics, blinking, stretching his eyebrows, furrowing them. "Just a moment," he said, following into the hall. "Jack!"

Jack stopped ten paces away, and turned. "Yeah?"

"Just... booking?" Daniel asked.

Jack shook his head, looking more ill than he had. "This is one more _possible_ answer that hinges on us having more intelligence than we can get."

"Still, you didn't have to run out so fast."

Jack jabbed his index finger down the hall. "_That thing_," he said, "gives me the creeps. There's something about it."

"Like _what_?" Jack wasn't – _couldn't_ be – talking about its physical form, or lack of same. As a rule, he wasn't concerned with those things. And Satya had, if anything, been as polite to him as it had been to everyone else.

...which might have been the problem, now that he thought about it. Satya was preternaturally easy to get along with, even though it had no reason to be on their side. He could easily imagine it floating before Anubis, pleasantly agreeing to tell him how to conquer and kill in exchange for the "honor" of being studied.

"It was _in my head_, Daniel," Jack said, dropping his voice and approaching again. He didn't want this broadcasted down the hall. "Like, _in_ there, messing around with stuff."

"Just now?"

"No! Earlier," Jack explained. "A coupl'a times too many. And every time it does that it makes everything go all–" He made a gesture Daniel had never seen before, and would never see again.

"I don't get it," Daniel said.

Jack dragged a hand over his forehead. "Okay, Linguisticsman. How long is an average sentence?"

"Well, it depends on what register of what dialect of what language you're speaking," Daniel said. "The figure you'll probably see most often is three seconds."

"Now make a wild guess as to how long that thing's sentences run."

Daniel thought back... and kept thinking, trying to re-hear its words, trying to match them with time. He couldn't.

"And then make a wild guess as to why it even _occurred_ to me to guess that," Jack said.

"Or why it occurred to you to say Anubis would go back in time?" Daniel guessed. "Or–"

"_Exactly_."

"So you're saying you understand science."

"No! That's exactly what I'm _not_ saying!" Jack blurted. "It's like sticking my head in one of those head-grabby things, except... _not_!"

Daniel shook his head. "They share their memories and knowledge on a very deep level," he explained. "Maybe you just got some of that."

"Well, I don't want it," Jack said. "And I sure as _hell_ don't want any more of it. I don't like not knowing where my own thinking is coming from."

Daniel shifted. "...I can see how that would be weird."

Jack's breathing had become ragged, and he grimaced to hold back a spate of coughs. "Daniel, just go, do what you need to, and try not to get possessed," he said. "And keep in mind that we're running out of time!"

"Yeah." _(I'll try to explain to Sayta what 'running out of time' means.)_ "...Jack. have you seen Fraiser lately?"

Jack wrestled his breathing under control, but looked no better for it. "Don't worry about this."

"It's hard not to."

"Fraiser will tell me I'm sick and I need to realize I'm sick," Jack recited. "I can do that on my own."

Daniel showed one palm in a gesture of defeat, and they parted ways.

_(Hello,)_ Satya said as he stepped back into his lab.

He looked at Satya warily. It knew no other means of communicating – but, when it put words into their heads, what else _did_ it put in with them? And when it went so far as to touch their minds...

He understood Jack's concern. The same effect that made it hard for an entity to develop an identity could erode a human's. Hadn't Sam talked about that, with Jolinar? The inability to separate a _me_ from an _other_, to isolate one's own thoughts from others as clearly heard? _(It's hard enough to know who you are when you only have one set of thoughts to deal with.)_

"Sorry about that," he said.

_(About what?)_

"For running off," he said.

Satya sank several inches. _(I didn't mind.)_

Maybe one effect of being unable to measure time was the inability to become impatient.

Daniel searched the lab, trying to pull inspiration from the walls. _(More data. Well, I don't have more data. And I don't suppose you do. Or if you do, you don't know it.)_ "How much do you know about Anubis' attack on PV1-542? – the planet orbiting your sun?"

_(I did not exist at the time.)_

Daniel looked up so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash. "What? How old _are_ you?"

_(How old?)_

"Right, right, you don't divide time." He tried to find another way to phrase it. "But you recognize _sequences_, right? What's the first thing you – you specifically – remember? Something that isn't transferred from another entity?"

_(Communicating with the other entities,)_ Satya promptly replied.

_(Okay. This isn't working.)_ "What's the first event you remember that I might also recognize?"

_(Coming to your planet,)_ Satya answered with as little hesitation.

_(There has to be some other way to ask this.)_ "How many other entities came into existence between your coming into existence and your coming to this planet?"

It flickered, pulsing in small internal starbursts and flares. _(Perhaps seven thousand,)_ it guessed.

"That's... an impressive birthrate," he said. _(...now I wish I knew your lifespan.)_

_(Birth rate?)_

Daniel waved it off. "Measuring number of new entities against duration," he said.

_(Oh,)_ Satya said, disappointed.

_(...aha!)_ "Are there more entities who predate you than follow you?" Daniel asked, feeling inordinately clever.

_(Yes,)_ Satya said. _(Many more.)_

"In our terms, we would say that makes you 'young,'" Daniel said.

_(I am young,)_ Satya said.

"Relative to the rest of your race, yes. Relative to us, you're _very_ young."

_(Very young. Then this is a part of identity?)_

"Well, it certainly..." he thought. "It influences how we think about ourselves. But our age is constantly changing."

_(Does identity change?)_

"That's... an interesting question," Daniel said. "One which scientists and philosophers have struggled with for a very long time. 'Who am I? Am I always the same?'" He relaxed into his chair – and surprised himself by doing so. _(...so this is how I unwind in the middle of crises,)_ he thought. _(I discuss the philosophy of self with an energy being. At what point did this become normal?)_ "In general, I think yes, to a certain extent, identity can change."

_(So my identity can change.)_

"I'd assume so."

_(I understand,)_ Satya said, a surge of assurance strengthening her "voice." _(My identity can change.)_

Daniel stopped, sensing that the conversation had veered into something that might not be for the best. But, try as he might, he couldn't pin down the source of his unease. "Within... reason," he said.

_(What reasoning?)_ Satya asked.

_(...this is a tangent it'll take me way, way too long to wrap up.)_ "Never mind." Still, he couldn't move on. He felt that this was volatile territory. "Why is that so interesting to you?"

_(I have null identity,)_ Satya said, as if it explained everything. And, in a way, it did – if identity _couldn't_ change, that might imply it'd be stuck with a "null identity" forever. Whether this was a process of identity _change_ or _discovery_ was an issue Daniel didn't feel equipped to define. He shook his head.

"...we're getting off-topic," he said. "Sorry. That was probably me. How much have other entities _told_ you about Anubis' attack on '542?"

* * *

The briefing room underwent periods of activity and abandonment; groups assembled, spoke futilely and rapidly, and dispersed to research. Teal'c studied them with some interest – the urge in the SGC was so strong to keep moving, to _do_ something no matter how fruitless, rather than wait for the war to come – so unlike the Jaffa camp. Jaffa _readiness_ and human _preparation_ were mutually alien concepts. He did not throw himself into the same fervor. He found it exhausting. Where his comrades found their energy was a mystery to him.

So he understood and appreciated the look of worn-down fatigue O'Neill wore when he came up the stairs, making the briefing room one more stop on his continual rounds. "You do not look well."

"I don't feel well," O'Neill said.

_(As I have gathered.)_ "Perhaps you should–"

"I don't need Fraiser!" O'Neill protested, so preemptively that Teal'c knew he'd had this conversation before, most probably with Daniel Jackson. And if his formidable powers of suggestion had failed, it would be a waste of Teal'c's own energies to try. He nodded in deference to O'Neill's stubbornness.

_(As long as one can argue, one is likely not too far gone.)_

"Anubis hasn't attacked again," O'Neill said, narrating the obvious. "He probably will."

It needed no confirmation.

"People think he's trying to figure out what went wrong. Maybe he had to stop to find an Ancient debug program. In any case, he still has that weapon, and probably info to make his old one again. I'm hoping we can shut down the 'gate like we did yesterday if it comes to that. Eggheads say they don't know."

Teal'c nodded. He hadn't invited the briefing, but if O'Neill felt the need to inform him, it cost him nothing to listen.

"Leaving aside the 'gate for the moment, what about ships? What do we have, what do we know?"

"Anubis has a great fleet, strengthened by the System Lords he conquers. We have the Prometheus," Teal'c said, aware that it represented an asset in name only.

"And the F-302s. But come on – Anubis took out one of _Thor's_ ships," O'Neill said, still recapping.

"Indeed," Teal'c agreed.

"...and then Thor took over the ship and we crashed it into an ocean," O'Neill mused. "So if we could just hook up an Asgard to every ship in his fleet. That or throw planets at them."

Teal'c turned the words over, searching for real meaning. The Tau'ri had used space to novel effect – detonating suns, delivering their enemies unto black holes. Still, he could think of no instance where they had purposefully removed a planet from its orbit, let alone used one as a projectile. "Would it not be simpler to propel the ships into the planets?"

The question irritated O'Neill, though Teal'c could not discern why. Isolating sources of annoyance for O'Neill represented a great deal of effort for little worthwhile knowledge. "Judging from yesterday a fleet isn't our big problem anyway," he said. "Do we think his fleet will get here before he calls again?"

"It is doubtful." Teal'c frowned, examining O'Neill more closely. His posture had changed – he braced himself, grit his teeth. Generally this indicated something unpleasant and imminent – something like Goa'uld questioning, or unwelcome orders. Something to swallow and endure.

"Course not." O'Neill hit the back of a chair. "He can't just send a fleet of ha'taks at us like every other Goa'uld in the galaxy," he growled, breathing faster. "No, it's always asteroids and Tollan bombs and Ancient... weapons..."

Teal'c saw the change before anyone else would have. He recognized the cues on instinct – the shift of O'Neill's focus, of his weight, the quick change in his breath. Subtle signs, but telling. "Colonel O'Neill?"

"Just... gonna... sit down," O'Neill slurred, fingers slipping over the back of the chair without grasping. His knees buckled and he sat hard, hitting the floor with a shock. Teal'c dove for him, catching his arm and back.

"_Guard_!" he bellowed.

He'd seen Jaffa wounded through a lung, chest moving without drawing oxygen. Some tried to pass it off, to soldier on. But oxygen deficiency wasn't an inconvenience, it was a debilitating injury. Sooner or later, all succumbed.

An SF burst into the room at the hail, weapon at the ready. "Sir–" he began.

"Contact the Infirmary," Teal'c ordered. "_Immediately_."

O'Neill would have protested. But by then his eyes had unfocused, his breathing quickened and shallowed, and Teal'c knew he could no longer see or hear him at all.

* * *

Daniel made it to the Infirmary in impressive time, made more impressive because Teal'c had no idea who'd contacted him. "What happened? What's going on?"

Teal'c watched the proceedings with equal, though less articulated, concern. "Colonel O'Neill collapsed while discussing tactics for Anubis' impending invasions," he said.

"What? Why? Is he all right? He seemed fine when he stopped by–"

"I do not know," Teal'c said, but nodded to the bed. "He regained consciousness as the medical team arrived."

And with consciousness, the will to argue. The familiar chorus was underway. "I'm okay," Jack protested, and Fraiser rejoined.

"You're not okay. You–"

"I'm okay _enough_." He tried to sit up, only to be restrained by two attendants. "I got a bit dizzy."

"You _passed out_."

"I did _not_!" Jack said, still trying to fight off the offending hands. "I was conscious. I just couldn't–"

"That's still serious. Colonel!" Fraiser barked, as Jack made scant but visible progress toward escaping one of the aides. "If you don't calm down I will have you sedated. Is that clear?"

Jack stopped struggling, still breathing raggedly. "Stop treating me like Colin Craven and I'll calm down," he said. "I can't do my job if I'm stuck on a bed, and my job is, at this very moment, more important than ever. Is _that_ clear?"

"Absolutely," Fraiser said. "But you also cannot do your job if you go into septic shock and die, a risk you run if you continue to take such a lax approach to your condition. Is _that_ clear!"

Jack took a deep breath to deliver a rejoinder, keeping up blow-for-blow with Fraiser's attacks, but took it in wrong and choked violently instead. By the time he'd gotten that under control, he held no illusion of winning the argument through any means. Angry, and more than a little humiliated, he glanced over at where Daniel and Teal'c were standing. As usual, Daniel seemed to come out of the argument the worst off, despite the fact he hadn't participated.

He collapsed backward, letting the aides fuss over him as he tried to return his heartrate and breathing to normal. "Your damn drugs aren't working," he shot.

"And have you–"

"Yes! On schedule, every last _stupid_ little pill."

"When did you start noticing symptoms?"

"When I came back from '542!" Jack roared – and gasped, the volume taking more than he had. "Since the attack," he admitted, the fact that he needed help closing around him like the compressed space. "Got hard to breathe. I thought it was just the attack. Or the stress."

"Well, it was probably elements of each of those. Why didn't you come in?"

"Because you can't help!" Jack yelled. "You said as much yourself! You can't get me better!"

"Possibly not, but we can at least keep you from getting worse," Fraiser said.

The 'gate siren rang.

Half of the room jumped, the other half froze. _(Unscheduled,)_ Daniel guessed, and a moment later the PA confirmed it.

The Infirmary's red phone rang.

Daniel turned to it on instinct before Fraiser crossed the distance, scooping it up with practiced speed. "Fraiser." Little time passed – two sentences maybe. "Got it," she said, and turned toward her staff. "All right, I need four teams up in the Gateroom two minutes ago! Burns and fractures, probably more. Haut, Wicken–" she waved two of her nurses to take over on O'Neill.

The infirmary burst into action.

For the first time Jack formed a still spot, taking in as much information as he could. Four teams meant more wounded than any offworld SG team could account for, unless they brought in refugees. Possibly, it meant another attack. Something that could take out all the personnel nearby. In any case, it was something catastrophic. His own problems suddenly seemed much smaller, even as they still confined him here.

"Daniel!"

Daniel whipped around.

"Get your glowing friend and get up to the Gateroom," Jack ordered. "Teal'c! Head down."

Teal'c left immediately. Daniel didn't. He almost waited for Jack to repeat the dispatch before realizing that he wouldn't – the nurses had taken over again, and his attention was elsewhere. Trying to breathe. Trying to hold on.

Daniel tore himself away, and ran.

* * *

It felt ridiculous to run up to level 18 before running back down to 28, but he didn't have time to appreciate the absurdity. Absurdity had become normal. Only the truly extraneous impressed him now.

_(Hello,)_ Satya said when he opened the door.

"Satya! Will you come with me," he asked.

_(Why?)_

"We may need you," Daniel explained. "Just – please."

Satya detached itself from its wall, streaming toward him. Daniel sprinted for the gateroom.

By the time they got there the wormhole had cut off. Daniel led Satya down through the main corridor–

–and into a war zone.

A triage had been set up in the disembarkation zone, nurses scrambling among bodies in the half-controlled chaos of a medical emergency. Stretchers were already arranged on the ground, the last still coming down the ramp. Engineers and SFs – some of whom he recognized from the memorial – moved among them, blood on their sleeves and jackets and hands where they'd moved the injured. Teal'c stood to one side of the madness, unwilling to interfere and unable to help.

The scene hit Daniel with enough force to stop him, unbalancing him. He had to find his footing just to stand.

"Oh my god," he breathed.

He could smell the wounds from where he stood – charred flesh and oil, smoke and field dressings. A few of the men were conscious, moaning or choking or gasping or breaking. His hair prickled, nerves alive with sympathetic pains. Bringing up the rear were the last of the stretchers, covered.

"What happened?" Hammond demanded from behind him. With a start, Daniel realized that he and the dying weren't the only ones in the room. Odd how these things could escape you.

"Al'kesh," an engineer said. "Two warped into the system. We scrambled the F-302s to meet them in the air. We lost two up there; three more crashed, planetside. Some of the pilots ejected. This–" he spread his hand over the scene, as if trying to indicate it and hold it at bay at once. "They should'a been a match for them."

"What's the status of the Beta Site?"

"Both al'kesh were destroyed, but they got one run in," the engineer said. "There's damage to the runway and hangar, and we can't fend off another attack. The beta site is not secure, sir. Anubis knows we're there. It's only a matter of time."

Two nurses stabilized a sack of fluid on a pilot's blackened chest and walked him past Daniel, stretcher creaking with the weight.

"Do you know how much?" Hammond asked.

"No idea," the engineer said.

_(They're damaged,)_ Satya noted.

Daniel swallowed, unable to look away. "Yes, they are," he said.

_(Then this is what Anubis does.)_

"Yes."

Satya twisted, color shifting through blue to violet until it'd nearly exited the range of human perception. Then she faded back to white again, a low buzz accompanying. "_Vvvvvvvvvvaad_!"

Daniel jumped, for the first time understanding what it had tried to do. "Satya–" he started. "You're _speaking_."

_(Yes? This is pronunciation. Is my pronunciation good?)_

Daniel felt his incredulity edging toward hysteria. Anubis was coming, the Beta Site had been massacred, Jack was in the Infirmary _again_, and he was dodging documentary crews and teaching an alien entity how to speak English. Something was seriously wrong with this picture. _(I guess the other thing about not recognizing duration is you have no grasp of urgency.)_

"We'll work on it," he said, stumbling toward the edge of the room. It followed. "Satya, listen. This is what's happening on a larger scale all through this galaxy. People are being damaged if not destroyed. You can see it happening on this base, very – very tangentially to what Anubis is out there doing, right now. But soon – I know you don't know what that means, but it means it _will happen_ – Anubis will come here, and that will happen to everyone. Jack. Me. Six billion people on this world, most of whom have no idea it's coming." He searched for comprehension in its alien form. "That's why we need your help. That's why you have to help us."

Satya expanded, angling toward the gate. _(Something is coming.)_

"Yes," Daniel said. "Something very big, very–"

He stopped as the chevrons glowed. Satya hadn't meant _coming soon_, or at some distant point in the future.

_"Unscheduled offworld activation!"_ a voice on the intercom said.


	11. Angels

For the first time in a long history of infirmary incarcerations, Jack made no protest at all.

He wanted to. Not just for his own situation, but for the wounded that rolled in on cots and stretchers with nurses calling over them; for the SFs standing up in the gateroom, aware that soon this could happen here, to them, as well.

He'd gotten his breathing under control, but everything else was failing him. His chest hurt, not just because he held himself so tensely. His head spun, and his vision couldn't decide whether to tunnel or fuzz. Even his saliva tasted thick and bitter. And the nurses could no more do anything about it than he could do anything about Anubis. He wasn't sure which – Anubis or illness – he hated more.

He needed to know what was happening, but couldn't parse the data. Aside from the Beta Site pilots and engineers, no casualties had come in. The base wasn't on high alert; no urgent announcements had been made. But Daniel hadn't returned to say things were all okay, and Jack was confident he would have, had they been.

So something was going on. Something which had caught Daniel's attention but wasn't immediately catastrophic – or was no more so than whatever had befallen the Beta Site. He wondered if maybe Fraiser's staff would let him sneak off, now that they had bigger things to worry about – and made it up thirty degrees before his world spun and dumped him back on the bed. _(Dammit! Dammit, dammit...)_

So he waited.

And waited, expecting any moment for the SGC to come crumbling down around him. Or up around him, given where the Stargate sat.

His brain was still going tripletime when Jacob Carter walked into the Infirmary, no longer looking like an avenging angel. Now he looked like someone caught down in the trenches, stubbornly not collapsing. And again – maybe always again – Jack froze up, shut down half of his mind and devoted the rest full-weight to extricating himself without success.

"...Jacob!" he said, and though he didn't choke, it sounded like he did. "Where did you come from?"

"Just got here," Jacob said, looking him up and down. "George sent me down. You're not still irradiated, are you?"

"As a matter of fact, I still am," Jack said, at a loss for anything else. "Radioactive and pneumatic. You just–"

"Dialed in on the second try," he said. "I was wondering about the busy signal. Looks like you've had a fun day."

"Some of us more than others," Jack said. "What's going on?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing." Jacob looked over the Infirmary. "Sooner or later you'll need to expand this place. _You_ look like you've been here too long."

"In and out." Jack wrested his mind back on track. "Jacob–"

Jacob graced him with a look of amused sympathy. "Jack, would you like me to use a healing device on you?"

Jack returned the offer with a look of such hopeful desperation that it took all of Jacob's control to keep a straight face. "That would work?"

"It's a healing device. It can't fix everything, but I'd say it should take care of a little case like yours."

Jack was too focused on the possibility of being cured to object to styling it "a little case." "Well, if it's not too much trouble–"

"Jack. Seriously." Jacob folded his arms. "All you had to do was ask."

"_Please_," Jack said.

Jacob nodded. "All right. Where do you keep your device?" He looked around. "Hell, I could even patch up Dr. Jackson while I'm at it."

"I'm sure he'd appreciate that," Jack said.

"While I'm here, I might as well blitz through your entire infirmary," Jacob muttered, looking down the row of beds. "You don't seem to have a shortage of wounded."

"It's been one of those days," Jack said.

"Yeah. No kidding." He caught the attention of a nurse, quickly dispatching him.

Jack cleared his throat, and ground out the cough that followed. "I'm sorry – what's up? What's the catch? This qualifies as good luck, and we haven't had any since..."

Jacob inclined his head, waiting.

"I'm thinking," Jack said.

"Fair trade," Jacob said. "We need your help. Well, not you specifically."

"_Really_." Jack arched an eyebrow. "Haven't heard much from Team Tok'ra since you moved out."

"No," Jacob agreed. "It's been... well, 'interesting' is probably the wrong word for it."

"So you decided to come back to the fold now that Anubis is playing rough?" Jack asked.

Jacob snorted, probably hearing Selmak retort within his brain. "Actually, we'd like to borrow Daniel."

Jack didn't react quickly enough to conceal his alarm. "What?"

"A bit of his time, at least," Jacob said distantly. The nurse returned with the healing device and Jacob took it, activating it and holding it up. Jack shifted uncomfortably – heat appeared between his lungs; it felt like his blood was burning. Since when was healing supposed to hurt? Jacob's eyebrows raised. "Wow, Jack, when you screw yourself up..."

"Hhng," Jack acknowledged.

"Good news is, I think I can fix you," he said. "You're not nearly as bad off as Daniel was."

"What do you want with Daniel?" Jack asked. He wasn't about to let any member of SG1 out of his sight today.

"Anubis is on the move," Jacob said. "Which I figure you've gathered. One of the last things he did was to round up every Goa'uld in his thrall, and put them to death. Now that he has overwhelming force, I guess he doesn't have use for lieutenants any more." He cleared his throat. "A few of them figured it out and got away, but not many. Four Tok'ra spies were executed with the rest of the Goa'uld. One escaped, and was lucky enough to bring us back some information. Not much, but it could give us an edge. At least a little one."

"And Daniel?" Jack prodded.

"Anubis has taken to coding all of his files in Ancient," Jacob said. "A few of us know the language or the basics of it, but Anubis' dialect is incredibly obscure. You have the local expert."

Jack grit his teeth as Jacob seared away the fluid in his lungs. "You're – not – planning on taking him home with you, are you?"

Jacob raised his eyebrows, most of his attention focused on healing. "You have a problem with that?" he said, guardedly conversational.

_(Yes!)_ Jack thought. He couldn't say it out loud – Jacob had him in an awkward position. He couldn't very well snap at the man who was returning him to much-missed health, and explaining that he didn't want his team split up for fear of getting more of them killed off would be in poor taste at best. "He's working on something important at the moment," he said, just as guardedly.

"Would this have to do with the glowing whatsit following him around the gateroom?"

"Yeah, that." Jack let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding as the heat's focus moved from one lung to the other, still traveling in shocks and waves through the rest of his body. "It followed us home from work one day and's been hanging around ever since."

"You have any idea what it is?"

"Something that lived in the star at PV1-542 that may or may not be a viable defense against – Anubis!" He hissed as his lung burned clear, and took a deep breath to cover. _(I can breathe,)_ he realized.

The heat diffused to a gentler, pervasive warmth. Cells he didn't know were damaged mended. "Really?" Jacob asked, tone downshifting two gears.

"Yeah. Some energy something with identity issues. It can shut off an incoming 'gate, and we figure that if it's energy and Anubis is energy–"

"Maybe it knows something," Jacob finished.

"Yeah."

"Think it does?"

Jack shook his head. "Not my department."

"Aha." Jacob nodded absently. "Well, I have the documents. I can leave them here."

"And you'll leave a forwarding address this time?"

Jacob looked at him sternly. "Jack."

Jack showed both hands in surrender. The next several seconds passed in silence.

"Jacob," Jack started, before he could back down. "About Sam."

Jacob's concentration flickered.

"I dunno. I just wanted to say–"

"Jack?" Jacob's voice was unusually stern. "Stop apologizing."

Jack swallowed.

"This is the job," Jacob continued. "I know you know that. If anyone survives Anubis at this point, we'll all be very lucky."

_(And is that supposed to make either of us feel better?)_ Jack looked down. Losing to Anubis' suddenly overwhelming force was one thing. '542 had been different. An off-chance. An accident. A bad roll on a crapshoot, Russian roulette. For all Teal'c's speeches about dying as a warrior, it had been an execution rather than a battle. She'd died without a chance to fight back.

Maybe Jacob didn't realize that. Jack couldn't remember exactly what had been said between them on the Beta Site, and didn't know how many details he'd been given. He knew Jacob hadn't come back to Earth after the service. Maybe that was why he didn't make the distinction.

But Jack wasn't going to correct him – to do so would be to add insult to injury, and Jacob's injury was certainly still raw.

Of course it still hurt. Jack knew more than most how much it could hurt.

"So," Jacob began, adopting some of Jack's unease. "I never actually thanked you for delivering the eulogy."

Jack's first instinct was to apologize. Again. His second was to explain that he would have deferred to someone more qualified, but no one'd stepped up. He'd worked through all the defenses before realizing that none of them were a gracious way to accept someone's thanks. "I know I probably wouldn't have been your first choice," he evaded.

Jacob looked up, a _Really now_ expression playing in his eyes. Jack knew he was being an idiot, but didn't know on what count. He cleared his throat.

Jacob looked down at the healing device, tying up loose ends before letting it deactivate. Both knew this was something that should be talked about. Neither knew what to say.

For the moment, at least, the awkwardness was cut short when Daniel barged into the infirmary, pulling up short as if he'd walked into something he wasn't supposed to see. "Oh! – hey," he said. "Um. I just put Satya back in my lab. Hammond said I should come down here."

"Yes," Jack said, taking the initiative to dump the conversation behind him. "Translation."

"Translation?" Daniel said, not following.

Jacob's head drooped, and Selmak cleared his throat. "We've obtained several files encoded in Ancient. We have few clues as to what they contain, but we hope they may provide us with means of finding a tactical advantage."

"Daniel. C'mere," Jack said, beckoning him over. "Healing device," he said by way of explanation.

Daniel obeyed on autopilot. "Do you have any idea what's in the files?"

"Only speculation." Selmak reached out automatically, activating the healing device over Daniel's shoulder. Daniel glanced down, blinking. "Hopefully, tactical or technical specifications. At this point anything will help."

"Okay. Well, if you have the files, I can get started on them now," Daniel said, taking a step and a half away before he realized that healing was best administered stationary. "...or whenever you're done. Er, thanks, by the way."

Selmak nodded. "And this alternate project of yours?"

"Wh – Satya?" Daniel asked. "What about her?"

"'Her?'" Jack asked. This was new.

Daniel stopped short. "Well... as far as I know, it doesn't technically have a sex or gender, but calling it 'it' all the time seemed pretty impolite."

"Daniel, I swear to God, if you wind up dating this thing–"

Jack found himself in the force of two stern gazes. Possibly three, though he couldn't tell. He waved a hand in surrender again.

"She's the representative of a race of beings who live in PV1-542's sun," Daniel volunteered. "Noncorporeal, not quite nontemporal but she certainly regards time differently than we do. Able to manipulate complex physical states, produce sound, shut off incoming 'gates, throw people across rooms." He gestured to his shoulder. "Somewhat hindered in communication by a desire to understand every nuance of everything before moving from point to point, which under other circumstances might actually be admirable."

"I've never heard of such a species," Selmak said.

"Neither had we, until we went to the planet," Daniel said. "But that's really no surprise. The star is almost impossible to approach. It can disable a ship in a matter of seconds – that's what happened to the first ship Anubis sent."

"What?" Selmak asked.

Daniel looked up. "The radiation," he clarified. "It's no surprise no one could get close enough to the pulsar to discover the entities."

"You say Anubis lost a ship," Selmak prompted.

Daniel blinked. On occasion he forgot that the Tok'ra and Free Jaffa weren't playing for the same team any more – they didn't share intel. "Yeah," he said. "He sent his First Prime, Herak, in his hok'ha'tak to take care of us the first time. Herak flew too close to the sun." His voice changed on the last words, picking up on the joke for the first time. _(Like Icarus.)_ He shook his head to clear the tangent.

"It was a bit more impressive than that," Jack said. "He came into the system and _boom_. Like flipping a switch." He illustrated the fly-by with a fist and flattened hand. "Guess his shields weren't quite as good as ours." _(As much good as it did us.)_

"Interesting," Selmak said. Daniel moved to bring up the Jaffa council, their bid to find a way to use the star as a weapon, but didn't speak quickly enough. Selmak had other ideas. "Was the ship itself destroyed?"

"I don't think so."

Selmak nodded, letting the healing device go dormant. "Excuse me," he said.

"O...kay," Daniel said.

Selmak fished in his tunic, pulling out a Tok'ra hand computer. "Here are the files," he said, handing it to Daniel. "Please devote as much time as you are able to them."

"I will," Daniel said.

Selmak switched back to Jacob, who glanced over the infirmary, momentarily conflicted. "I'll come back for these boys in a bit," he said. "Nice seeing both of you again."

"Always a pleasure," Jack said, as Jacob took off. He looked to Daniel, but it was clear neither of them knew what was going on. "Well," he said. "I don't think there's any reason we need to stick around here."

"Yeah," Daniel said, turning over the hand computer and flicking it on. He glanced over the text as it presented itself, grimacing. This was decidedly not late Ancient – he didn't recognize half of the forms. _(Well, that's what sixteen journals of extensive notes are for,)_ he reasoned, walking out into the hallway. Jack followed. "There was something I wanted to ask you."

Jack grunted.

"'Colin Craven?'" Daniel asked.

Jack folded his arms. "Famous invalid? _The Secret Garden_?" At Daniel's continued confusion he rolled his eyes. "Come on. You've never read it?"

"Actually, I'm more than a little surprised that you have," he said.

Jack pretended to take offense. "I read occasionally."

"_The Secret Garden?_"

"I read it a couple of times," Jack said. "...usually aloud."

"Ah," Daniel mouthed.

Jack's tone fell. "It was one of Sara's favorite books," he explained, his enthusiasm for the conversation gone. He exhaled, somewhat surprised that he could do so comfortably. "So?" he asked. "What's up?"

"Huh?"

Jack gestured as if the question was self-evident. Daniel quickly interpreted.

"Something's bothering me."

_(That's obvious.)_ "About?"

"Satya."

Jack snorted. "Yeah, something bothers me about Satya, too."

Daniel was too preoccupied to notice that Jack had gotten the name right for once. "I don't know quite what it is."

"Need help?"

Daniel remained unamused, if he recognized the joke at all. "Ever since she told me how young she was," he said. "You know she actually came into existence after we left '542?"

Jack looked dutifully impressed. "Precocious kid."

"Yeah, but that's not what's bugging me."

"There's more?"

"Yeah – something else. Something about why she's here. I don't know." He shook his head. "Something isn't adding up right, and I can't figure out what it is."

"You're telling me there are things adding up right?"

"As much as they ever do." Daniel paused by the elevator, looking for all the world as if he was on the verge of realizing what was wrong. After a moment, he shook his head. "I don't know." He quirked his head, studying Jack. "Are you coming to help with the translation, or are you just following me because you have nothing better to do?"

"Barking up the wrong genius," Jack replied automatically. He smiled at Daniel's expression. "Good luck."

"Thanks." The elevator opened, and Daniel stepped in.

* * *

George was already elbow-deep in Beta Site reports when Jacob knocked, poking his head in without further preamble. George slid the reports away. "Jacob," he greeted. "What can I do for you?"

"I want to see the mission reports from–" He paused, trying to dredge up the designation. Quietly, Selmak prompted him. "–PV1-542." _(Thanks.)_

George nodded. "Of course." Technically, with the dissolution of the alliance, Jacob had no legal grounds to demand them. But letting politics stand in the way of cooperation now would be petty, if not suicidal. At any given time about three months' backlog of mission reports resided in a file folder at the back of the General's office, so finding the reams of paper devoted to the pulsar planet was simple. George fished out the most comprehensive overviews – the two Colonels', Major Carter's initial reports, and the second-lead scientist's – and handed them over. Jacob took them, scanning them quickly. "If I can ask," George said, "what are you looking for?"

"Anubis has only a few advanced ships," Jacob said. "New ones, at least. Most of the rest are his old ones, which are better than most Goa'uld motherships but nowhere near as advanced as, say, the hok'ha'tak Anubis used to attack Abydos."

George nodded. "So?"

"So that ship was never destroyed, as I understand it," Jacob said. "It was wiped clean by the pulsar. At the moment it's probably an irradiated hunk of metal drifting through space, but that doesn't mean it can't be salvaged. And if Anubis is focusing his efforts on making new ships and getting them into play as soon as possible, he may not have gone back to retrieve it."

Realization dawned on George's face.

"Now, it was moving when it got hit," Jacob said. "It's possible it fell into orbit or crashed into the planet, but it's just as likely that it wouldn't. It probably hasn't cleared the pulsar's kill zone yet, but when it does, we might be able to get to it."

In which case they would have one ship to contend with Anubis' growing fleet. The odds didn't impress either General, but they were an improvement nonetheless. "What can we do?" George asked.

Jacob shook his head. "At the moment, keep Dr. Jackson on that translation. I'll take this information to the Tok'ra High Council. We'll see how fast we can get a tel'tak out there to monitor the situation."

"All right," George agreed. "And I assume you'll inform us of your findings."

"Oh, I'll be back here one way or another," Jacob said.

* * *

_(Hello,)_ Satya greeted – as always – when Daniel stepped into the lab.

"Hello, Satya," Daniel said. "Sorry for the false alarm before. Thanks for coming down to the 'gateroom with me." He had no idea if she felt inconvenienced by it, but it cost nothing to be polite.

_(You're welcome,)_ she said, accompanied by a buzzing "Yrrrl." _(Did things turn out well?)_

"I'd say so," Daniel said. "For now."

_(Should we continue our discussions?)_

"I'd love to," Daniel apologized, "but something's come up. I need to translate something." He watched, trying to decipher a reaction. "It might help us fight Anubis."

_(I understand.)_ Satya made a slow half-rotation. _(We'll talk later.)_

Somehow, she delivered the line without a hint of ominousness. "Thanks," Daniel said, and turned to the translation.

Six minutes passed in silence before a flash of light and heat filled the room.

Daniel froze. _(That really can't have been–)_ He checked over one shoulder, stiffened unpleasantly, and finally got his feet and mind communicating well enough to turn.

Satya had condensed into something humanoid – at least, she had made a valiant attempt. She exhibited a distinct head and torso and four distinct limbs, the upper two of which terminated in rudimentary fingers and the lower two of which widened into flat stumps. She hadn't known what to do with most of the facial features, and her solution to imitating eyes was to dim the majority of her body and pour out the light through two circles roughly where eyes would be. They glowed with the intensity of small searchlights.

"Hhhhwwww," she hummed.

Daniel pulled off his glasses, cleaning them on a corner of his jacket before replacing them. The scene continued not to make sense. "Satya..." he began, three different questions fighting for simultaneous access to his tongue. "Please tell me you didn't just emit a pulse of radiation," won out.

_(I changed states,)_ Satya said. _(This required expenditure of energy. Is it good?)_

"It's... very distinctive," Daniel said. "Very UFO. I really need to know what that flash was."

_(Energy.)_ Satya turned her head, an action which totally failed to seem natural. Daniel tried not to shudder. _(I've made you uncomfortable.)_

"No! No. Uh... yes, a little, but that's okay," Daniel said. "You didn't do anything wrong. I just need to know what kind of energy you put out."

"Whhhhatkind," Satya said. Her speech didn't seem any more natural, either, as she hadn't gone to the trouble to synthesize a mouth.

"Yeah. Uh, okay." _(...I can't believe I'm doing this.)_ He took a deep breath. "Light, and things like radio waves, electricity, and all of those exist in the same spectrum as other things like gamma radiation, which is very dangerous to organic life."

_(Oh.)_ Satya's arms moved feebly. _(I don't know how to distinguish these. Can you demonstrate gamma radiation?)_

Daniel swallowed hard. "I'm sure one of the scientists could whip something up. –ah, in the mean time, I really have to go do something, so if you want to stay here – or, come along, whatever–" he headed at an angle for the door, nearly colliding with the man coming in.

"Hey!" Dr. McKay said.

"Heyyynnngh," Daniel responded. "What're you doing here?"

"I stopped in earlier to get information from the entity to clear up some of the records from '542," McKay explained. "I was hoping it would–" He trailed off. "...what's _that_?"

"That?" Daniel looked where he was staring. "Oh, that's Satya," he answered. "The entity."

"It looks different," McKay said.

"Oh, she changed states," Daniel told him. "From energy to... solid energy."

McKay jabbed his pencil entity-ward. "I'm pretty sure that's not possible."

"Yeah, well, welcome to the SGC," Daniel said. "I have to go see Fraiser to make sure I haven't accidentally irradiated myself, but you two have fun."

"Wh–" McKay began, but Daniel was already several metres down the hall.

* * *

Jack got to see a lot of administrative paperwork. On occasion, he even had to do some. Two things happened as a consequence of this: he realized that he really didn't envy Hammond his job, and he developed skills and tactics related to the avoidance of work. Most of these were based on the simple principle _Act busy_, and most of that manifested itself in the time-honored practice of harassing his scientists. His scientist, singular, these days.

So, after checking in with Hammond to get the latest updates, it was only natural he'd find himself taking the stairs to Level 18.

He looked both ways before stepping out into the hall, but saw no overenthusiastic documentarists lying in wait. With a wary look toward the general library, he made his way toward the labs.

Daniel wasn't there.

For a moment he entertained the ludicrous idea that he'd come out on the wrong level, because why else would McKay be in residence with diagnostic equipment? But McKay probably wouldn't have books on generative syntax and artifacts from various worlds cluttering the shelves and walls, so that explanation was flawed at best. The fact that he was taking readings on a glowing alien Jack was positive he hadn't seen before only made the situation more confusing.

He cleared his throat. "Doctor?"

McKay turned sharply. "Colonel. What are you doing here?"

"Looking for Daniel," Jack said. Aside from conversing with possible alien invaders, McKay seemed no more suspicious than usual. Jack sternly pushed the image of Daniel stuffed into a closet out of his mind. As if there would be room on top of all the books. "What are you and – what _is_ that? – doing here?"

"Dr. Jackson went to the infirmary," McKay said. "I came to ask the entity some questions."

_(What?)_ "And the entity is...?" Jack asked. One thing at a time.

McKay pointed at the glowing alien. "Don't ask me."

"And you say Daniel went to the infirmary?"

"Uh, yeah. Said something about radiation."

"_Radiation_?"

"I really didn't get details," McKay said. "All I know is that it's not putting out radiation that I can detect. I mean, thermal radiation, UV rays, but nothing dangerous."

_(Okay. Daniel irradiated himself again and the entity went Close Encounters on us. Sadly, this makes sense.)_ "Infirmary," he double-checked.

McKay sounded annoyed. "Well, he said he was going to see Dr. Fraiser, so that's what I'd assume."

"Right," Jack said, with another glance at the alien. Entity. It stared at him from bright, round eyes. "...right. I'll be up there."

He left quickly.

* * *

Fortunately, Daniel didn't look too badly irradiated when Jack stopped in, waving off Fraiser as she made to come over. He hadn't changed into scrubs and wasn't attached to anything, which was usually a good sign. He looked more shaken than anything, but that was eminently understandable. "What's up?"

Daniel shook his head. "Long story," he said. "You?"

"Doing rounds. Checking things." Jack examined him more closely. "So, what're you in for?"

"I was a bit worried that Satya started spontaneously emitting radiation," Daniel said. "Apparently she didn't, but I don't doubt that she could if she wanted to."

_(Great. One more thing I wish it – 'she?' – __**it**__ couldn't do.)_

"Well, your little entity is growing up into a fine... something. I tell you, that thing is getting progressively more disturbing."

Daniel paused. "Say that again."

"What? 'It's disturbing?'"

"Not _that_." Daniel waved a hand. "The other thing."

"That it's growing into a nobody knows what?"

Daniel blinked. "That's _it_," he said.

"What's what?" Jack asked.

"What's been bothering me," Daniel said. "She's too young."

"Yes...?" Jack said. "I thought we established that."

"Yes, but–" Daniel shook his head. "What I mean is–"

"Look, whatever," Jack said. "That's not what I came here for. Have you seen Teal'c since the wounded came in?"

Daniel thought back. "No," he said. "I haven't."

"What about Bregman?"

"...no."

"Uh-_huh_," Jack said, gnawing at the inside of his lip. "Well, that's probably not a good sign. Anyway, good luck with your entity."

"It's not _my_–" Daniel began, and Jack disappeared. As Jack was wont to do.

Daniel shrugged it off and walked back to his lab.

_(Hello,)_ Satya said.

_(One of these days,)_ he thought, _(I'm going to have to find a way to explain when you do and don't have to say "Hello.")_ "I'm curious," he said. "Why do you feel you have an identity you're missing?"

"Why?" Satya repeated, hollowing out the word.

"You're very young," he explained. "From our perspective, the fact that you can communicate, that you can comprehend everything you can, is incredible. But people are not necessarily _born_ with identities. It takes a while to develop them." He studied Satya's face, hoping for an expression that didn't materialize. "I could understand if older entities felt that they'd lost identity. You confuse me. I don't know why you feel it's natural to have an identity this early in your life."

_(I shouldn't?)_

Daniel backpedaled. "I didn't say you shouldn't. If you do, that's enough. I just want to know why."

Satya stared, unblinking. "I just do." _(I can't explain. I only experience.)_ "I could–" _(I could give you that experience? If that would help.)_

Daniel caught himself. "As fascinating as that sounds, it might not be such a good idea," he said. Simple transfer of unrelated information had nearly driven Jack to an existential crisis. Not only did he not want to tie up the Stargate, he couldn't imagine having the entity's identity issues dumped directly into his consciousness. "But let's move on from there. You're sure you have an identity."

"Yes," Satya said.

"What else are you sure of? Or suspect?"

_(Relating to identity?)_ "I have a distinct identity. An objective identity. I will recognize this identity. Once recognized I will retain it." _(This is consistent with my observations.)_

"You see?" Daniel asked. "Your intuition is good. You just need to take bigger steps – bigger leaps of reasoning. Trust yourself to find the answers. You just need a little faith."

_(Faith,)_ Satya thought. Then, audibly, "Faith."

"Faith. Trust. Courage. Don't be afraid to make larger intuitive leaps."

_(Because, if identity is intuitive, than an intuitive approach to discovering identity is more logical than a logical one.)_

Daniel laughed. "Yeah. Basically."

_(That's both logical and counterintuitive,)_ Satya said.

"Because you intuitively look for a logical approach?"

"Yes."

He nodded. "Well, I can understand that." He thought back. "The problem is, our logic is limited by our knowledge, and sometimes we can't construct an explanation as easily as we can assume one. I remember this planet called Kheb..." he trailed off. "Sometimes what we think is illogical is completely natural; it's just that our understanding of nature is incomplete or flawed. On Kheb..." he trailed off again.

On Kheb, dealing with Oma for the first time, when he'd first been exposed to the powers of an Ascended being, it had been Sam who'd remained skeptical, who'd looked for the logical answer. Concealed technology, slight-of-hand, something to fit what she saw into what she knew. Through Oma, Shifu, Orlin, _him_ – she'd eventually made a place for them. Written them in as one more unexplained natural mystery up there with quantum physics and temporal theory. Eventually she'd related to them as she did everything else.

"I wish you'd had a chance to meet Sam," he said. "You remind me of her. Your intuition. She was also a very logical person, but she had a way of seeing something and just _understanding_ it. And an incredible sense of curiosity, just like yours."

"I'm like Sam," Satya said.

"In some ways, yes, you're incredibly like her."

"Am I Sam?" Satya asked.

He hadn't been prepared for the question, and it hit him like a gutpunch. "...no," he said, and his voice sounded small and weak even to his own ears. "Sam is gone."

Satya faded. _(Gone. Define?)_

_(...maybe I shouldn't have told it to leap,)_ he thought. _(Maybe I'm being too impatient. Maybe sticking with a logical, slow progression is the best way...)_ He tried to face the truth, once more. It didn't feel like death, now. But it didn't feel much better. "Sam died."

"Sam does not exist," Satya supplied.

And now it felt worse. Satya probably couldn't read his expression, which was good – he couldn't control it. "...I don't know," he admitted. _(You'd think I'd be an expert. You'd think I'd know all there was to know about it. But even given how often it's happened, I really have no more idea than anyone else.)_ "No one knows. There's been a lot of speculation, a lot of religions have tried to explain–" his sentence tied itself in inextricable knots. "What you call _identity_, a lot of humans call 'soul,' and what happens to the soul after death is–" he stopped again, started again. "I mean, for all I know–"

He ground to a halt. _(...for all I know? For all I know, you're right. For all I know, you're–)_

He stared.

Satya flickered. _(...you're angry,)_ she guessed.

He jumped. "No! I just–"

_(You're upset,)_ she guessed again. _(I've made an incorrect assumption.)_

He couldn't answer one way or another.

Galvanizing himself into action, he stood – stood too fast, tipping over the chair in which he'd been sitting. He mumbled something incoherent while trying to set it to rights. "Satya, would you wait here?" he said quickly. "I have to – I'll be back. Just wait here. Okay?"

Satya radiated confusion. Daniel nearly tripped over the chair once more on his way out the door.

* * *

He made it halfway down the stairs before his breath caught up with him.

It shouldn't have hit him as hard as it did. Rationally, he knew that. And it had come to the point where he could say her name or think of her without flinching, without sounds and sensations falling over him too tangled and too tight to escape. But this was different. This wasn't a mere mention, it was–

Her death was no longer intrusive. It still bothered him, and it certainly still hurt, but it didn't press itself into his consciousness at every opportunity. It was more that there was a slot not being filled, a Sam Carter-shaped hole in the way the universe should have been. Mentally, he had to keep stepping around it or he'd fall in.

And Satya had pushed him straight over the edge.

Jack was speaking with Hammond when Daniel burst into the office, catching himself against the doorframe. "Jack!"

Jack turned quickly, gearing himself up for colossal badness. "What?"

"Satya," Daniel managed, before his lungs had quite refilled with air. "Jack, I think–" he stopped, glancing around the office. "Is this a bad time?"

Jack looked back to Hammond. Hammond looked at Daniel. "Dr. Jackson, what's going on?"

Daniel shook his head. "Uh... Jack. Can I talk to you? Alone? Just for a moment? I'd explain–" he cast Hammond an apologetic look.

Jack turned to his CO. "Sir?"

Hammond shrugged with one hand. Jack mirrored the gesture, and steered Daniel into the briefing room.

"You boys wanna step outside for a bit?" he said to the SFs at the entrances. They nodded, removing themselves. Jack turned to Daniel, who still hadn't mastered the art of breathing at a normal pace. _(Seriously. No way can this be good.)_ "What's up?"

"How much do you remember about my Ascension?" Daniel asked.

Jack nearly choked on his own breath. After several days of choking on everything else, it was an unwelcome event. "Excuse me?"

"I mean – I can't remember much about it. And it's not like I haven't tried, either, it's just – I kinda remember talking to you, telling you something or other, and then bits and pieces, and then waking up on Vis Uban. But I don't know how much I told you."

Jack cleared his throat uneasily. This was not a subject he enjoyed discussing. Or remembering. "Why do you ask?"

"I don't know what happened," Daniel said. "I know I Ascended. But was it something _I_ did? Was it something Oma did for me? –_to_ me? What about Shifu?" he asked, switching topics so fast Jack's head spun. "We know Oma taught him to forget, the same as when Oma blocked _my_ memories when I – I mean, even Ascended beings can have anomalies in their memories," he said. "We don't know the extent of that, or–"

"Daniel!" Jack interrupted.

"What if something could Ascend you without your control?" Daniel asked. "What if that same process could take away every memory you'd ever formed?"

"Then you'd have the most pointless something in the history of pointless things," Jack said. "What are we even talking about?"

"Everything!" Daniel said. "_Everything_ that didn't make sense. Why of all the entities in the pulsar, this particular one came here, despite the fact that she didn't exist to see us or Anubis' attack. Why she feels that she should have an identity but doesn't. What if she _did_ once?"

Jack shook his head. "You think Satya is some Ascended someone who got their brain messed with."

"I think Satya is _Sam_," Daniel said.

Everything telescoped. Jack's world narrowed, blocking out thought, blocking out color, blocking out sound. "What?" he said, and barely heard himself speak.

"When I was working on the Tok'ra files," Daniel said. "I got sidetracked. We started talking about identity – again – and she doesn't act like someone who _can't form_ an identity, she acts like someone who's _lost_ it."

"Go back to the part where it's _Sam_?"

"The timing is perfect so far as I can tell. And her instincts – why she came here. You should talk to her, Jack – her intuition, the way she thinks, her logic – you know McKay's been talking with her about the pulsar? Her interest in things, her – her _attitudes_ – I'll admit not everything is spot-on, but it's close. Close enough. Closer than some people would be with their memories wiped."

So many mental wheels spun at once that Jack couldn't hear himself think over them. "Do you have any proof?" came out of his mouth.

"Proof? No, not as such. Just–" Daniel gestured helplessly.

Jack's voice dropped in pitch and volume. "This is not an idea you want to toss around casually right now."

Daniel stared. The bottom had dropped out of his universe, and that fact reflected in his eyes. "Who's taking this casually?"

Jack scrambled for words, for sense in the confusion. "It's just now, with everything going on–"

"Jack." Daniel's tone said what his words couldn't. _Trust me. Believe me. Listen to me._

When he put it like _that_...

Daniel had a habit of being right about these things, or at least wrong in useful ways. A side effect of having his head stuck in a universe no one else quite got was that he noticed things no one else did. Jack didn't buy that Carter had reincarnated as the walking nightlight in Daniel's lab. That would qualify as miraculous luck, and at the moment he didn't believe in luck outside the spectrum of _bad_. But Daniel was on the scent, and it was best to humor him.

He steadied himself before walking into Hammond's office again. "Sir, I'd call Teal'c up here. Daniel has an interesting theory to present."

* * *

Time of undefined duration elapsed before Satya's logic resolved. Daniel had been upset. Daniel had left upset. Both indicated that something bad had happened. Something undesirable.

He'd asked her to remain in the enclosure, which didn't make sense. She understood that she had the ability to stop incoming wormholes, and understood the value of that; she didn't understand what could be obtained by her remaining stationary. But bad things were happening, and she'd agreed to help. She needed further instruction. And if she'd been the cause of the bad things, which she suspected, she needed to know what not to do.

_(Find Daniel,)_ she thought – instinctively, intuitively, without pitching it so that humans could hear.

She'd studied human locomotion, but she had a lot left to extrapolate. She knew that it was a process of shifting a center of gravity from one point to another, balancing it over the mirrored lower struts, but didn't know the internal mechanics – the extent to which they could manipulate their internal alignment. She put one "foot" forward, carefully realigning her structure so that it represented the majority of her density before placing the other in front of it. She repeated the process, getting used to the feel of it, totally unaware that in comparison to a human walk she looked unnaturally fluid and mechanical.

She made it into the hall, reconciling the boundaries with what she had gleaned from Colonel Jack O'Neill's mind, from Daniel's, and from her own earlier excursions. Eventually she headed for the stairs – a sure means of moving between levels in a solid state. From a few of the rooms she could identify sounds. Everything was so excessively compartmentalized, something she'd never experienced before coming to the cold marble or here. Even after coming, before she'd made herself solid, it hadn't constrained her in such a way.

"Hey!"

Satya stopped moving. Another human, one she didn't recognize, approached. Three, actually. They'd been coming her way – maybe that was why she'd been instructed to remain there? She felt along the air, replicating in exacting detail the minor compressions to "speak." "Hello?"

"Wow," the human said. "That's – that's amazing. I was wondering, could I – I'm Emmet Bregman, by the way. I'm here to document what goes on here. Could I have a moment of your time?"

Once again, it came down to moments and time. Satya reached for the elusive understanding – once again, it evaded. It didn't feel good. It was important – obviously so, obvious from the patterns their minds were locked inside, obvious from the way they talked, the way they thought. But totally incomprehensible. _(I don't understand!)_

Emmet Bregman jumped. "What was – I'm sorry? I just want to ask you a few questions. Is that all right?"

Satya examined him – sound, mass, approach and words. "Yes." After all, she wanted questions. "You gather data. This is good." She heard her own voice, and deemed it passible. Such a replication made her proud. "What are your devices?"

Emmet Bregman turned, examining them. "These? These are just to record. I'm sure you must have something similar?"

"We don't have technology."

His head tilted vertically – down, up, down again. She moderated the surface tension of her analogue, trying to replicate the motion. "I see," he said. "Uh, thank you. This is – wow. I mean, this is really an amazing opportunity. Your name is Satya, right?"

"Daniel named me Satya," she said. "To indicate a desire for truth and identity."

He pressed a hand to his centre. "I also desire truth," he said. "That's why I'm creating this documentary. Unfortunately, the people here haven't been too cooperative. They're in a tough position," he conceded.

_(Why?)_ she asked, without synthesizing sound.

He jerked again, coinciding with her words. "What are you doing right there?"

"This is more intuitive speech," she said. "You're uncomfortable."

He nodded again. "It's very strange."

"I'm sorry."

"No, that's perfectly all right. I'm sorry, what was your question?"

"Why?" she asked.

Emmet Bregman's head rotated along another axis – horizontally. Again, Satya attempted to replicate the gesture, observing carefully to divine its meaning. "Oh," he said, after repeating the motion. His sound changed – the complex alterations that Satya had come to associate with apology or uncertainty. "These people have a strong interest in concealing things," he said. "And they have their reasons for it. Security and safety, mostly. It's hard for them to let go of that, even for legitimate concerns."

A number of Satya's conceptions shifted. _(Concealing?)_ she wondered to herself. _(Misrepresentation of accurate states for selective purposes.)_ "I see."

The information filed itself away with a trillion other nuances, to be mulled over and assembled into a cohesive whole. For now, she had other priorities.

"What do you want to know?"

* * *

Daniel had found a seat by the time Teal'c stepped in, though Jack's expression suggested that he'd made more of an ordeal out of it than was necessary. Colonel O'Neill wasn't looking forward to this meeting.

Teal'c nodded to them as he took a seat, slightly less impassive than always.

"Where have you been?" Jack asked in the interests of stalling.

"Thinking," Teal'c said.

_(Ah. Probably locked himself in his room with his eight thousand candles.)_ "Anything earth-shattering? Or earth-saving?"

"No."

Not surprising. Still, Jack couldn't help the feeling he'd come up with something – his tone was three degrees warmer than flat frustration. _(Well, if he thinks it's important, he'll come out with it. Until then we have __**so**__ many other things to worry about.)_ "Someone briefed you about Jacob?"

Teal'c nodded.

Jack exhaled, and glanced at Hammond. Hammond looked to Daniel.

Daniel took a deep breath, trying to organize his ideas into words. He knew he sounded crazy, but didn't know where to start so as to sound sane. "We know that humans are capable of existing as energy," he began. "We've also seen evidence that an Ascended mind is no more immutable than an organic mind, and can still suffer anomalies of thought, memory, and intuition."

Hammond looked in no mood to sit through a theory lecture. "I assume this has something to do with the entity, Satya," he said.

Daniel nodded, leaning forward and lacing his fingers together. He hadn't given much thought to organizing his argument. He hadn't had the presence of mind to. "General, the people on that planet and the entities maintained a communicative relationship that, to all indications–"

Jack rolled his eyes. "Daniel!"

Daniel jumped.

Jack turned to Hammond, cutting to the chase without regard to tact. "Daniel thinks Carter might have Ascended and wound up as that thing."

Hammond's expression hopped from tolerant to shocked without passing through the stages between. He looked to Daniel, who winced. "Do you have any evidence?"

"Circumstantial," Daniel admitted. "But it's an answer to a lot of the questions I've had."

"Do you know how this could happen?"

"No. No, I – we know that Ascended beings can help others Ascend. It's possible the other entities helped her."

"And conveniently forgot to inform her of the fact," Jack said.

Daniel shrunk in. The initial shock had faded, and Jack's cynicism had warmed up. This meeting would not get any easier. "If this is Ascension, it's an imperfect process," he said. "Memory – _identity_ should be intact."

"Which apparently isn't the case," Hammond said. "So how do you know?"

"I don't know, exactly–" Daniel looked around the table. "But she was the one who came here. She has an intuitive understanding of wormhole physics. She came into existence as an entity just as we left the pulsar."

Hammond moved his hand. "That's not a lot to go on."

"No. It's not." Daniel ground his teeth. "A lot is just gut feeling. The way she thinks and interacts. It's recognizable if you look for it, it's just hard to quantify."

Hammond turned. "Colonel, aside from Dr. Jackson, you've had more contact with the entity than any of us," he said. "What's your opinion?"

Daniel looked down. Jack sighed – once again, he had to be the cold voice of realism. "As far as I can tell, sir, it's an alien. It stuck itself inside my head a couple of times, and I don't remember recognizing Carter."

"Her identity was erased," Daniel said.

"In which case it's a little hard to decide either way."

Silence passed around the table.

"Should we not inform Jacob Carter?" Teal'c asked, pre-empting Daniel as he regrouped his arguments.

"No!" Jack said. "Not until we have more information."

Daniel stared. "He's her father, Jack."

"And we don't know it's her. If you ask me, this entire thing sounds kinda sketchy." He looked at Hammond, then back at Daniel, lowering his voice. "He's still dealing with her death. As are the rest of us, I might add."

"But if I'm right–"

"If you're not, we're not putting him through that," Jack said. His voice dropped another few decibels. "It'd be like losing her all over again."

Hammond watched him silently.

"General," Daniel said.

"I'm inclined to agree with Colonel O'Neill," Hammond said. _He knows what he's talking about_, he didn't. "In any case, this may be a discussion for another time. Unless we can conclusively determine that the entity is Major Carter and find a way to restore her to normal, the reality is that it makes no difference to the situation at hand."

Daniel opened his mouth to protest, and closed it again when he realized that Hammond was right. It made a difference to him, not to the war effort.

"Right," he said. "Sorry."

Hammond stood. "See what you can find out," he instructed to soften the blow. "Keep me apprised."

Daniel nodded as Hammond bowed out. Teal'c lingered for a moment, observing, before heading for the stairs.

Jack put both palms on the table, focusing on damage control. "Daniel, it's not that we don't trust your instincts–"

Daniel glared over his glasses, clearly in no mood to be sweet-talked.

"We're just saying it merits further study," Jack tried. "Further study" was a good phrase. A Carter phrase, in point of fact. It emphasized the need for caution as well as affirming plausibility.

Daniel stood. "Never mind. I shouldn't have brought it up." He pushed his chair in, ramming it against the table. "Now's not the time."

_(Damn right it's not.)_ Jack groaned inwardly. Daniel's mind went in too many directions at once even without external distractions, and this had not been a week for uninterrupted study. Bregman had only asked questions about Carter, and Jack had come down on him for that. To be fair, he really should be kicking the entity's ass for this. Or at least its ass-equivalent. He didn't think Daniel would go for that plan. "What do you want?"

"Talk to her," Daniel said, switching from sullen to entreating faster than should have been possible.

Jack winced.

"Just _talk_," Daniel pressed. "She won't scramble your brain just _talking_."

Jack raised both hands in surrender. "All right. I'll talk. But I doubt you'll change my mind."

* * *

Daniel's office was empty when they stepped in.

Jack looked over the premises, ensuring that nothing glowed that shouldn't be glowing. "Daniel?"

"What?"

"You didn't think it important to ask an SF to keep an eye on... her?"

"Up until a few hours ago she could go through walls," Daniel said. "Besides, she didn't do anything but float in the corner."

"I think she's doing something else now, though."

Daniel crossed his arms, doing a fair impression of a badger backed into a corner. "I am _not_ her keeper," he said. "I've been trying to do ten different things at once. I don't have time to waste trying to keep someone uninterested in causing trouble out of trouble."

Jack held up both hands in a quiet _I surrender_. Daniel was frazzled, and making him defensive helped nothing.

"I told her to stay here," Daniel said, turning to her corner.

_(So it doesn't follow orders,)_ Jack thought. "Should I be ordering a strategic sweep of the base?"

"She's not a danger, she's just–"

"Unpredictable?"

Daniel swallowed the adjective. "I don't know where she'd go."

Jack considered. "Maybe I should come back later."

"Wait on that," Daniel said, peering out into the hall. Jack followed his attention – a patch of light like a flashlight's beam swayed along the wall. _(Something glowing this way comes.)_

Satya padded in, very deliberately rotating her head to observe them. _(There you are,)_ she communicated. _(You were not in the areas I explored.)_ "Hello. Hello."

Daniel tried not to wince at its motion. "You were looking for us? Me?"

"Yes."

_(Oh, yes.) _"Daniel?" Jack asked, regarding Satya warily. "About this."

"Oh! Satya changed states," Daniel explained, not that Jack hadn't already seen that. "She wanted to approximate a more human form."

Jack looked skeptical. "It's nice," he lied.

Satya moved her head, diverting her attention to Daniel again. _(You were upset when you left,)_ she said with conviction. _(It wasn't my intention.)_

"I know," Daniel said. "It's all right. I wasn't upset with you. Uh, Jack's here to talk to you," he introduced. "About your intuition."

Jack rolled his eyes, trying to come up with something to say. This wasn't the most awkward conversation he'd ever been dragged into, but it was still far from comfortable. "Hey," he said at length.

"Hey?" the entity repeated.

Jack glanced at Daniel, who hung on the exchange with childlike desperation. Jack exhaled, making the effort for his sake. "So, how's the identity thing coming?"

"Counterintuitively," Satya said.

_(Meaning...?)_ "Aha," he said. "Uh. Sorry to hear that."

"Sorry?"

_(Huh?)_ He shook his head. "So, Daniel thinks you might be..." he stumbled on a phrasing. "A good friend of ours."

_(Major Samantha Carter, US Air Force,)_ Satya supplied in a perfect approximation of Carter's voice. He could almost place the memory she'd plucked it from.

"Yeah. That's the one."

"Am I?"

Jack answered carefully. "You tell me."

"I don't know," Satya said. "How can I identify this identity?"

"I don't know," Jack said, glancing sidelong at Daniel. "I'd think you'd know."

"I don't."

"I get that."

"You think I'm not," Satya said.

"I wouldn't dream of telling you who you are," Jack said. "As for who you're not..." He looked her over. "If you _are_ Carter, you've got a pretty good cover story."

Satya went silent. Jack waited. And kept waiting. He looked at Daniel, and Daniel motioned him on.

"So?" Jack said at length.

"You're afraid I'm not her," Satya said.

"No." He shook his head. "I figured you weren't her."

"But you're afraid."

Jack shifted. He wouldn't have put it like that, but now that someone _had_... "Yeah. I guess."

"Of what?"

"I'm afraid that even if you're not, Daniel will convince you that you are and then you'll go and convince the rest of us." He glanced at Daniel, now frowning. "And we'll go on believing that, even though it's not true."

"My identity can change," she said.

Jack didn't follow. "What?"

She watched him, an element of sadness in her alien eyes. "If I became indistinguishable from her, down to my cognitive processes, would I be her?"

"No," Jack said, without thinking about the answer.

"Why not?"

Jack stopped short, trying to force his thoughts into words. At length, he answered with the only response he had. "Because you wouldn't be her."

* * *

He left the lab visibly shaken. He never wanted to have that conversation again – not that Satya had been particularly brutal, or emotional, or particularly _anything_ except unsettling. But getting stuck between it and Daniel was unpleasantly like getting stuck between – well, like getting stuck between Daniel and anything he was irrationally invested in. Ke'ra or Reece or anything that would eventually come back to hurt them all in the end. What was worse, it usually wound up hurting Daniel more than anyone.

"Well?" Daniel asked.

Jack groaned inwardly. "It seems like an alien to me."

"At the moment."

He shook his head. "What are you getting at?"

"She's trying to reclaim an identity. Of course she doesn't have it now – just... hints. Indications of what it could be."

"Convenient," Jack said.

"Not really," Daniel chastised.

"Convenient for your argument," Jack backpedalled. "Yes or no, we can't disprove it."

"You're talking about the Swamp Man theory," Daniel said.

"The what?"

"Donald Davidson, _Knowing One's Own Mind,_ nineteen eighty-seven," Daniel said. "Basically, assume Davidson walked into a swamp and was struck by lightning. Elsewhere in the swamp, another bolt of lightning coincidentally arranged a bunch of atoms in a shape exactly like Davidson, right down to the energy going through neural pathways in his brain. The swamp man would go on about Davidson's life, and everyone including it would believe it would be Davidson. But Davidson contends that it wouldn't." He smiled distantly. "Or, as he says, 'it couldn't _re_cognize anything because it never _cognized_ in the first place.' Despite being identical, its history wasn't Davidson's, and so any assumption based on that would be false."

"Should I be worried that you have all of this stuff memorized?" Jack asked. He was tired – the day had drained him more than he wanted to admit. He didn't have the resources to devote to Daniel's newest jaunt into existential philosophy, or whatever this was now.

"You have to admit it's an interesting problem." Daniel crossed his arms. "And not without relevance. Back when Apophis attacked Earth, and I went through the quantum mirror? We've since discovered that it could be reset, tuned to different addresses. Assume that happened while I was gone – I came back to a universe that wasn't technically mine, and the me who belonged to this universe wound up in mine, or somewhere else entirely. Maybe the only divergence between the two took place recently on – I don't know, on some Jaffa world that's never had any contact with Earth. The Earths of the two universes were identical."

Jack saw where this was going, and didn't like it. "Daniel–"

"In that case you and I would never have met before I came through the mirror. It would _appear_ that we had, but it wouldn't be me. We'd interact as if we had worked together on X missions in Y circumstances for Z time, but all of those hypotheses would be false."

"...I guess," Jack said cautiously.

"Now assume that the other me – the me who belonged here – died," Daniel said. "In the last seven years would this have made any difference to you at all?"

Jack winced. "We're talking about totally different things," he said. "I think. As far as I know. This quantum mirror thing means that all of the yous out there are basically still _you_, right?"

Daniel moved in for the kill. "Only if you consider substance and not continuity to be what defines a person. In which case if Satya is indistinguishable from Sam, she _is_ Sam, even if she wasn't always."

Jack cradled his forehead. This was like trying to untangle any given thing on Carter's blackboard. He could break down the words and letters and symbols, but put them all together and he drowned in gibberish.

He had a sudden, intense recollection of what it had been like when Satya touched his mind, and shuddered.

"You realize this is going to bother me all day," he said, dropping his hand.

Daniel nodded. "You know it's plausible."

"I know that getting yourself screwed up in a bunch of different universes and then getting killed off somewhere is exactly something you would do!" Jack shot back. "And as for your pet entity, no! I'm still not buying it!" He lowered his volume, but not his intensity. "It doesn't understand _time_. Carter understood time _travel_."

"Even humans are susceptible to physical injury that changes what they can understand. Ever heard of aphasia?"

"That's not the point!"

"What is your point?"

"I don't know!" Jack yelled. "It doesn't look like a Sam or quack like a Sam. So it's probably not Sam."

"Appearances aren't the point here! I know I wasn't exactly myself when I got back from Vis Uban, and this is a far more pervasive–"

"Might be, Daniel, might be! Not 'is!'"

"I've admitted the evidence is largely circumstantial, but you have to admit that it explains a lot–"

"Do I?"

"Jack!"

"Have you ever heard of Occam's razor?" Jack asked.

"Yes, 'explanation of a phenomenon should make as few assumptions as possible,' usually rendered as 'the simplest explanation is usually correct.' Well, when's the last time that argument held water around here?"

Once again it was Jack's turn to deflect. "That's not the point."

"What about her understanding of physics?" Daniel asked, pressing at anything that might possibly be an advantage. "You don't think–"

"_Dammit_, Daniel!" Jack didn't realize how far his patience had been pushed until he lost it. Even Daniel stopped, staring at him in surprise. "Carter was brilliant. I think we all got _that_ memo. But there are lots of brilliant people out there, and not all of them are Carter."

"Jack–"

"This thing lived inside a star, for God's sake! Have you ever considered it might not be out of the ordinary for these things to know some stuff?"

"It's not just what she knows, it's–"

"You put any two people – entities, things, whatever – side by side, and you're going to see similarities if you look for them. And if you tell _it_ to look for them, and it starts buying into this as well–"

"Her," Daniel corrected.

"–then you're just setting things up to see exactly what you expect!"

"Jack, I–"

"You're certain it's her?"

"Yes," Daniel answered, too quickly.

"And, for the sake of argument, what if it's not?"

Daniel dragged his teeth against each other, watching warily.

"If there's even the slightest possibility it's not," Jack said, "you need to keep that in mind. You won't do anyone any favors if you convince her she's someone she isn't. Especially not her."

"I know that," Daniel said, sounding for all the world like an annoyed teenager.

Jack watched him. He'd admit that he hoped Daniel was right – he couldn't deny that his heart had tried to climb up in his throat when Daniel delivered the news. The theory. But he couldn't escape the sinking feeling that it was going to be false hopes all over again, that it would burn them all in the end. "Don't just see what you want to see," he warned.

"You want Sam back as much as I do," Daniel said quietly, striking the heart of the issue without acknowledging anything else.

"Yes, I do," Jack said. "I want Sam back. I don't want the next best thing."

"And you're convinced that's what this is."

Jack spread his hands. "I don't _know_."

Daniel watched as he walked off. Part of him found it very sad that Jack was willing to let go any chance of finding Sam because he was afraid it might not pan out. He didn't realize that Jack thought something very similar: how sad it was that Daniel hoped and needed so strongly that he'd risk trapping them all in a delusion to reach after somebody already gone.

* * *

_(Your mood is worse,)_ Satya observed.

Daniel went to his desk without prelude, shuffling a stack of notes and observations aside to make room for the Ancient translation. "It's just stress," he not-quite-lied.

_(Can I help?)_

He thought for a moment. "Do you know anything about the Ancient language?"

Satya moved her hands. "No."

"Then I'm not sure how you could, right now," he said.

Her eyes glowed in a manner totally unlike a Goa'uld's. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have anything to apologize for," Daniel said.

"You mood is the result of my actions."

He pushed the translation aside. "No. Only indirectly."

She was silent.

He looked away, scanning the walls, the ceiling, the floor. Nothing told him what to do. "My mood is the result of trying to do too many things at once and not thinking before I open my mouth," he said, opting for undiluted truth. "It's the entire situation. The state of the universe. Not you."

"I'm a part of your immediate universe." She moved her hands again. _(Approximating gesture,)_ Daniel thought. "I want to help."

He smiled weakly. "I know you do."

Another hand move accompanied an awkward, twisting tilt of her head. "Daniel. What if–" she stopped. _(You want Sam back.)_

He looked at her, tried to look through her. Tried to define, beyond a doubt, what she was or wasn't or could be or might be. "Yes. I do. We all do."

_(And what if I'm not her?)_

"Then you wouldn't be her." _(If you are, it changes everything. If you aren't...)_ He shook his head. "I should get back to this translation," he said, reaching for the materials. _(I just–)_

"Do you desire truth, Daniel?"

He stopped midmotion. "What?"

"Do you desire truth?" Her voice modulated and flattened, humming into a different form. It had elements of... sadness, it seemed. Apology, reservation, uncertainty, fear. He couldn't isolate specifics.

"Yes," Daniel said. "That's part of why I work here."

"Do you misrepresent truth?"

He sat heavily. He'd tried to be entirely honest with her. He didn't know where the suspicion had come from. "I try not to," he said. "I don't want to. On occasion, yes, I've had to as part of my duties here. Sometimes, it's necessary – it's a lesser evil. The effects of misrepresenting the truth, of lying, are less harmful than telling the truth would be. But I don't enjoy it. I try not to, if it's not necessary."

She didn't visibly react. _(Have you ever lied to me?)_ Her "voice" came tinged with the same muddle as her physical, but hurt more for being more direct. _(Have you ever misrepresented the truth,)_ she amended.

"No," he said. "Never intentionally."

She was silent.

He struggled with words, trying to form a question, to ask why she'd asked. Before he could, his phone rang. Acting on instinct, he picked it up. "Hello."

_"Dr. Jackson?"_ the voice said. _"You're required in the briefing room."_

Daniel's stomach knotted. "Now?"

_"Yes, sir."_

He looked at Satya. He didn't want to leave just now – to let the conversation hang on that note. But Anubis, or the Tok'ra, or the Jaffa, or _whatever_ was happening wouldn't wait for him to untangle this mess. Assuming it could be untangled. "I'll be right up."

He hung up, looking despondently at the receiver. "I have to go," he told Satya. "I'll be back, though. All right?"

_(All right,)_ she said, but her mental touch lacked something. He couldn't help the feeling that something had changed between them.

He tore himself away.

* * *

SG-1 reconvened in the briefing room with minimal fuss, though the standoff between Jack and Daniel didn't escape anyone's notice. Nor did Jack fail to notice that Teal'c's expression had still not reset to neutral – there was something in his eyes, but he couldn't tell what.

_(There is something that man isn't telling us,)_ Jack thought. Of course, with Teal'c, that was a given.

Hammond cleared his throat as everyone sat. "Roughly three hours ago, CAIRN II tracked several objects entering the solar system beyond Neptune's orbit. They've just now been able to identify them. Three Goa'uld Al'kesh."

"Like the force that attacked the Beta Site," Daniel said.

"The force which attacked the Beta Site was likely a small scout fleet sent by Anubis to determine the state of the planet," Teal'c said. "Anubis knows both the location of Earth and its population. It is more likely these ships represent the vanguard for a larger Goa'uld fleet to come."

"A review of the engagements at the Beta Site suggest that the Prometheus may be a match for the al'kesh, even if it can't match an advanced mothership," Hammond said. "But that may only buy us a few days, if that, as well as tipping our hand. The president thinks it may be time to inform the world."

"Why?" Jack asked. "If every branch of every military on the planet mobilized–"

Daniel grimaced. "How about as a courtesy?"

"A sort of 'hi, just calling to tell you you're all gonna die?'"

Daniel dropped his head onto one palm, and shut up. _(Why is it everything I say today makes something worse?)_

"Colonel, what would you recommend?" Hammond asked.

Jack looked around the table, though apparently no one had any more of an idea than he did. "I think it's time to call in every marker we have."

"That may not amount to much," Hammond pointed out. "We can't contact the Asgard, and they've as much as admitted that they can't win a war against the Goa'uld. As far as we know, all of our other allies are in the same boat as us."

"It's better than doing nothing," Jack said.

"General," Teal'c put in. "I would like to return to the Jaffa, both to ascertain their status and to determine whether or not they have discovered a means of resistance."

Hammond nodded. As unlikely as Jaffa help was, there was nothing to be lost in looking for it. "I've already put a message through to the Tok'ra. Unfortunately they have little to offer." He turned to Daniel. "Has the entity offered anything?"

Daniel pulled his head back up. "She's offered to help," he said. "I doubt she knows _how_, specifically."

"And the translation?"

"It's coming. Slowly." He shook his head. "And if Anubis is already heading this way, I don't know how much use it'll be."

Silence fell.

Hammond pulled himself up. "We're not defeated yet," he said. "Everyone is looking for solutions. Bring any and all suggestions, no matter how farfetched, to me. In the meantime I'm going to put SG-3 and SG-12 out looking for a new Alpha Site." He stood. "Dismissed."

Jack grimaced as he stood. "This seems eerily familiar."

Daniel looked at him for a moment, then left without answering. Jack considered following, but couldn't see how it would help.

"You think the Jaffa will have anything?" he asked Teal'c.

Teal'c's expression didn't change. "It is possible."

"But you're not banking on it."

"It would be unwise to 'bank' on anything at this time."

"Right." Jack crossed his arms. "You know, if we'd moved faster, we could have evacuated '542."

Teal'c quirked an eyebrow.

"We can't evacuate Earth," Jack said. "Hell or high water, we're staying here."

"I am aware," Teal'c said.

Jack trailed off. _(What am I doing?)_ he wondered. _(I'm just talking for the sake of talking. Good god.)_ "Never mind."

Teal'c bowed out, leaving him in the briefing room alone. For the moment he didn't appreciate these deep-space sensors–'542's array, CAIRN II. He'd almost have preferred not knowing. Almost.

"We're not dead yet," he said to no one, a small act of defiance against the gathering storm. In a day, maybe two, that might not be the case. But he'd be damned if he'd let Anubis win without a fight.


	12. Samsara

Jack found Daniel in the Archaeology and Linguistics Library, taking too much time and care to select books from the shelves and holding back a nervous breakdown by force of will.

"The translation is your priority," Jack said.

"I know that," Daniel returned. "Hence why I'm in here, getting reference materials."

Jack looked at the bookshelves. So he was. "So you are."

"Is this about something?" Daniel asked.

_(Okay, touchy.)_ He wiped both hands on his jacket. "You're distracted. I know," he offered. "I'm trying to focus your attention."

"Away from something _you_ don't think is important."

Had he possessed slightly more grace, Jack would have backed away. He didn't. "Well, yeah."

"I don't get it," Daniel said. "It's not as if this would be the strangest thing ever to have happened. Why are you so skeptical?"

"Aside from the fact that you have yet to present actual evidence?" Jack asked, heading for the door before Daniel could retort. "It hasn't called me 'sir' yet."

"Because suddenly that's what it comes down to for you," Daniel shot. "Quantifiable evidence."

Jack paused. "What?"

"Strictly speaking we don't know anything," Daniel said. "We don't possess absolute certainty and we can't without knowing all the variables in the universe. We don't know beyond a shadow of a doubt that those Al'kesh are Anbubis's, or that Anubis is coming to destroy us. Maybe it's Ba'al, or Anubis wants our surrender. But we have reasons to assume what we assume, and I'd bet we're right."

"We have evidence."

"We have prior experience from which we deduct. There's a difference." He grabbed an analytic grammar, flipped it opened, skimmed a page and shoved it back onto the shelf.

"Daniel–" Jack began. _(You're focusing, but on the totally wrong thing.)_

"There's a difference because deduction can give us an idea of what's to come _without_ evidence!" Daniel interrupted. "Intuition. Assumption."

"I get it."

Daniel beat the pile of books into shape and scooped them up, heading for the hall. "Sure you do."

This time it was Jack's turn to put a hand out, to block the door. "Do we need to head down to the boxing ring for a few minutes?" he asked. He wasn't above letting Daniel pummel him if it would help.

"What I _need_–!" Daniel started, and didn't finish because he had no idea how. He needed galactic peace, a whole and unscarred SG1, time to think, time to work, time and space to breathe. "What do you want from me? Aside from abandoning all hope?"

_(Ouch.)_ Jack didn't wince. "I want to help. Can I?"

"No." Daniel gestured to Jack's arm. Jack didn't move.

"It's a distraction."

"She's important," Daniel said.

"In the grand galactic scheme of things, sure. Let's focus on getting through the week, for now." Jack shook his head. "Given everything else going on, I'm beginning to think we might be better off if it wasn't here," he said. "No offense. But aside from that stunt it pulled with the Stargate–"

"That stunt?" Daniel demanded.

"Don't start," Jack warned.

"Oh, no, far be it for me to argue semantics," Daniel returned, "but are you referring to the stunt that kept Colorado Springs from being ripped apart by tidal stress? _That_ stunt?"

"All right, all right, we owe it our lives," Jack said. "And I'm grateful. I would be more grateful if it'd help out now, or if we had time to devote to extracurriculars. But Anubis–"

"Is coming, yes, I know!" Daniel's hands were shaking. "And believe it or not, she does too! She wants to help, but she doesn't know how – which isn't so surprising, I might add, seeing as we don't either. She's only as useless as the rest of us."

"I'm not saying it's useless," Jack said.

Daniel didn't answer. He wore the grimace he wore when he was trying not to look wounded.

Jack answered with exasperation. "Oh, what is it?"

"It took you five minutes to decide that I was wrong," Daniel said.

"I haven't decided anything."

"Yes, you have."

Daniel ducked away, slipping under his arm. Jack didn't follow. He didn't say a word.

Who knew – maybe Daniel was right.

* * *

Daniel didn't want to re-enter his lab. He didn't want to face anyone; especially not Satya. He paused in the hallway, trying and failing to collect himself before stepping inside.

"Hello," Satya said, rendering the word meaningless through repetition alone. "You're unhappy."

"Anubis has entered our solar system," Daniel said, aware that he was misrepresenting the truth and hating everything about it.

"Then he will come to damage this world."

"We assume so."

"I'm sorry."

Daniel looked up, trying to read between the lines. He looked down at his translation again. "So am I."

Silence for a minute and a half, during which time Daniel identified two words as untranslatable proper nouns.

"Colonel O'Neill doesn't like me," Satya observed.

Daniel looked up again, studying her. At length he swiped his glasses from his nose, cleaning them on his jacket. Jack thought he could just remind him to focus and he'd be able to. Things were never that easy. "Not at the moment," he admitted. "I mean, no. But that can change." _(Everything can change.)_

"Why not?"

Daniel kept his expression neutral. "Why do you think?"

Satya considered. "I've caused damage to the base, injured its personnel, and possessed him," she said eventually. "And I've been unable to come up with a plan to beat Anubis."

Daniel deflated. He didn't know what he'd expected, but the obvious analysis hadn't been it. _(I guess that's what the evidence points toward.)_ "I guess."

"Are there other reasons I should be aware of?"

"Not good ones." He looked back to his translation.

"Politics?" Satya asked.

He looked up sharply. "What?"

"Politics?"

Daniel frowned. "Where did you pick that up?"

"Pick that up?"

"Learn. Where did you learn that word?"

Satya's head tilted sideways, much further than looked comfortable. "Emmet Bregman explained that–"

Daniel was up and out of his chair before he knew what he was going to do. "Bregman hunted you down?"

"He was interested in sharing information."

"He's–" Daniel bit off everything. _Politics_ was right – he couldn't explain his objection to Bregman without explaining a thousand other things along with it, most of which could only harm the situation as it stood. He made himself sit down. "Politics pervades everything," he said – a vague enough answer to her question. "But it's not the only reason for anything." He hoped such a gross oversimplification would hold her.

"You don't approve."

"Of politics? Not as a rule." He put a hand on his books. "Satya, I need to work."

"I understand," she said. "I need to help."

"I don't know how you can, right now," Daniel said.

"All right," she said, and fell silent. Darkly, involuntarily, he wondered how long it would last.

* * *

If Jack was hopeful that his encounter with Teal'c would go better than his encounter with Daniel, it was only because he didn't see how it could go worse.

He found Teal'c in the locker room, donning his armor instead of his Jaffa robes. _(I guess the time for ceremony is over,)_ Jack thought. "Hey."

Teal'c looked over in acknowledgment. "Colonel O'Neill."

"Geared up?"

"As you can see," Teal'c chastised, "I am in the process of 'gearing up.'"

"...as I can see," Jack said. "We need an advantage. Anything that might help. Keep your eyes open."

Teal'c didn't answer. If O'Neill wanted to immerse himself in platitudes, he could do that without a dialogue.

"Assume things are moving fast from here on," Jack said.

Teal'c buckled his maille. "How is Daniel Jackson?" he said, changing the topic with an utter lack of subtlety.

"Bad," Jack answered. "Fixated. Still arguing with me."

"You think he is wrong," Teal'c said.

"I think–" Jack grimaced. "I think Daniel's under a lot of stress, and I think that's manifesting as a panglossian conviction that Carter is back from the dead." He dug a knuckle into one temple. _(I just used the word "panglossian" in casual conversation.)_ "And I think I've been spending too much time with him and Fraiser."

"Then you are certain he is mistaken."

"Gut feeling."

Teal'c pulled on the metal tabard, adjusting it over his shoulders. "And you have told him this."

"Yeah. Half a textbook later he still didn't buy it."

Teal'c was frowning.

Jack studied his expression. "What?"

Teal'c straightened, picking up his staff weapon. "You yourself have said this is a diversion of attention."

"Yes. Several times."

"And yet you have still spent a great deal of time to convince him he is wrong. Indeed, it seems as though you are as invested as he is."

"I'm not–" Jack's hackles raised. "Look, sometimes Daniel gets his head into something that–"

"We are not discussing Daniel Jackson," Teal'c interrupted. "You must realize that your part in this is as great as his."

Jack growled. "What's your point, Teal'c?"

Teal'c gave no reaction to Jack's snappishness. "Daniel Jackson believes he is protecting Major Carter," he said. "You believe you are protecting her memory. If this becomes a battle, neither one of you shall win due to the strength of your resolve. It will only serve to further injure those around you, and weaken the SGC in its coming trials."

"Teal'c, he's–" Jack trailed off when he saw the look in his friend's eyes. Teal'c was not about to bend from his position – and if it did come to a battle, he would not be taking Jack's side. The fact that he wouldn't take Daniel's either was scant consolation.

"Major Carter, whether she is the entity or not, would nonetheless not wish you to fight in such a manner," Teal'c said.

"Whether or not," Jack repeated. "What do you think?"

Teal'c clipped his armor, and Jack waited. If anything, Teal'c would give an honest answer – which was what Jack wanted, even if it wouldn't be something he wanted to hear.

"I believe Daniel Jackson was correct," Teal'c said, "in insisting that Ke'ra was not Linnea. Whether or not this entity was born of Major Carter, the fact remains that Major Carter is not here. Should she claim or reclaim that identity it will become apparent to each of us."

"Easiest out in the history of outs," Jack said before he'd thought it through. "...I guess you're right. Care to drop by Daniel's lab and tell him that before he leaves?"

"He would not listen."

Jack sighed. "No kidding." He looked Teal'c up and down, trying to place the pieces of the world into something neatly understandable. "So what's got you so secretive? We both know you're hiding something."

Teal'c paused. He didn't consider himself secretive. He simply had a keener sense than most of what did and did not need to be said – and the SGC was operating at such a saturation of ideas and hopes and fears that adding more could only hurt. Daniel Jackson was proof enough of that. "It is nothing."

"Looks like a damn preoccupying nothing."

"I have simply been thinking of how best to mount an defense."

"Hammond wanted to know everything everyone came up with," O'Neill reminded.

"It is not important." Teal'c took up his staff weapon, facing his friend. "Trust in me, O'Neill."

O'Neill regarded him, surprised. "I trust you," he said.

Teal'c nodded. "I will return as soon as possible," he said. "Fare well."

"We'll do our best," he said, trying not to point out how woefully inadequate their best had been thus far. "Good luck."

* * *

"If politics pervades everything, then politics has pervaded your interactions with me," Satya said.

Daniel felt sick to his stomach. Not drastically so, but the knot there was tuning his throat sour. "That's what we call a syllogism," he said.

"And thus must also have pervaded your interactions with Colonel O'Neill."

"More than usually so, yes."

"Because you believe that I am Major Sam Cater."

"Yeah."

"And you do not approve of politics."

"No–"

"Then this is why your mood has become worse following every instance of conversation," Satya concluded.

Daniel rifled through his dictionary, trying to pin down a particularly troublesome ablative absolute before answering.

"This is important to me," Satya said.

Daniel looked up. "Why?"

"To determine identity. To understand you. To help."

"Do you know of a way you could help? – do you _assume_ there's a way you can help?"

"You want Sam Carter back," Satya said.

"She's my friend."

"You assume that she can help."

_(Intuitive leaps,)_ Daniel thought. "Yes."

Satya was silent.

Daniel shook his head, pressing two fingers into the bridge of his nose. "Do you remember anything? If you try, if you focus on Sam, can you remember anything?"

_(I remember you remembering,)_ she said hesitantly. _(I remember memories gleaned from Colonel Jack O'Neill's mind. Memories of her death. Of another entity unlike myself, and unlike Anubis. Fear when he thought of them.)_ "These were prominent in his thoughts."

"He didn't know you," Daniel said.

_(He knew Major Carter. You think I'm her.)_

Daniel deflated. "But you don't think you are."

"I. Don't–" Her voice distorted, losing intelligibility. _(This is a good identity,)_ she said. _(A valued identity. I don't have it.)_ "I–" _(I – want identity. I don't recognize this.)_ Even solid, she couldn't hold herself together. Colors coruscated across her, and within the bounds of her adopted form she couldn't keep from fidgeting. _(If I adopted her identity, I could help.)_

Daniel wanted to leave. He wanted to escape. The knot in his stomach had evolved into something spectacularly darker, and he was more trapped here with Satya than he had been facing off with Jack. "You don't have to adopt an identity. You don't need to be something you aren't."

"Because I am Sam Carter?"

"Because we don't force people–" To do what? Change? That was patently untrue. "Because we won't usurp an individual's right to control who they are," he said.

"But you believe that I'm Sam Carter," Satya pressed.

Daniel hadn't moved, but he felt backed against a wall. "I don't understand what you're getting at," he said. _(Just tell me what you're thinking.)_

"Daniel, what is the value of this assumption?"

He squinted at her. "What?"

_(What is the value of this assumption?)_ she asked again.

"...I don't understand."

_(Why do you believe?)_

"Instinct. Intuition."

_(Is that all?)_

Daniel shook his head. _(I'm not going further until I know what's going on.)_ "What are you asking?"

"If I'm not Sam Carter?" Satya asked. "My value will decrease. Your attention will divert."

"No," Daniel lied, at first unaware he was lying. "It's – I suspect you're Sam Carter. Jack's right – I don't know anything. But even if you aren't, that doesn't invalidate you as a person."

"You want her back," Satya said. Her voice fell flat – as flat as her first attempts at speech, without synthesizing emotion or tone. "I cannot fulfill this function. You can't help me. I can't help you."

Daniel went cold. "That's not true–"

"I don't know this person!" Satya exploded – literally. She lost cohesion, a small nova in the center of the room. _(And even if I did, I wouldn't be her. Your Colonel has stated this.)_

Daniel backed up, feeling the radiant heat on his skin. "He didn't mean–"

She blasted away, arc lightning through the SGC's halls. Daniel ran after her. "Satya!"

A siren screamed.

Daniel took the stairs toward the control room three at a time, slipping on the last and catching himself on the railing. It rammed up under his sternum, winding him. By the time he'd careened into the Control Room, Hammond was already in attendance, and the Stargate lay dormant.

"What was _that_?" Hammond demanded.

"The, uh–" Walter stared at his monitor. "The entity has returned to PV1-542," he said.

"Wh–" Hammond started, turning to Daniel.

Daniel stared at the 'gate, wearing the expression of someone who had bumped something on accident and brought reality crumbling down around his ears.

"Dr. Jackson?" Hammond asked.

"She couldn't help us," Daniel said, emptying the words of meaning.

"She told you that?"

Daniel shook his head, trying to find balance. "...I have to get back to my translation," he said, and dragged himself off.

* * *

Jack made it to the Control Room hall before running into Daniel, who looked as though he was putting off shock entirely because he couldn't fit it in his schedule yet. "What the hell–" he began.

"You don't have to worry about Satya any more," Daniel said. "She went home."

"Why–"

"Politics!" Daniel made it two steps past him before slamming his fist into a wall. "God, I'm such an idiot!"

"Daniel?" Jack asked.

Daniel turned, ramming himself backward into the concrete by the door. Aggravation tied up every muscle – he had a hard time keeping himself from shaking, and didn't have the presence of mind to try. "Well, as it turns out, you were totally right, and I really wasn't helping anything. She thinks I'm lying to her – that I have a vested interest in making her be Sam. So she left."

Daniel stared at him, challenging him to look satisfied or say "I told you so" or anything like it. Jack glanced away, looking for a better response. This was a time for working together and putting previous arguments aside, for moving on with Teal'c-esque pragmatism and shuffling the Carter dilemma neatly under a rug.

Jack was bad at these.

"Those knuckles are going to hurt for a bit," he said eventually.

Daniel glared at him, apparently giving serious consideration to punching him in the chest. Jack shrugged. Hell, if it made him feel better.

The upshot of not expecting things to turn out well was that, when they didn't, it didn't hurt so much. When they did, it proved a pleasant surprise. Rational pessimism – a comfortable, familiar fallback. But Daniel was an idealist. As much as life kicked him in the teeth, he still looked for good to come of it.

"She wanted to help," Daniel said.

"But she got caught up in the politics and jumped ship," Jack said. "Can't fault her instincts."

"She wanted to help," Daniel repeated. "She didn't think she could." He shook his head. "...she wanted to help and be studied. Her entire species has been waiting for that chance." His right hand tapped absently. "I don't think she'd leave just because of that."

Warning bells went off in Jack's mind. "So you're suggesting–"

"I don't know!" Daniel shook out his hand. "I'm going back to my translation." He started down the hall.

"Need any help?" Jack asked.

"No!" Daniel called back. And of course he was lying, but of course there was nothing Jack could do.

He walked into the control room. Hammond was there, valiantly controlling a situation which didn't, at the moment, merit much control. Jack cleared his throat.

Hammond turned. "The entity seems to have left," he said.

"So I heard." Jack looked at the Stargate. "Anything you need me to do?"

"Not at the moment," Hammond said.

"Figured as much." He looked at the 'gate. It stood deceptively calm. "If there's anything you need–"

"I'll keep you informed," Hammond said.

"Appreciated." For once, the automatic response was heartfelt. Even so, he left the control room feeling useless.

Of course, when he'd be useful again was probably when the fighting started, which wasn't a great option either. Sometimes there were no ways to win – and that disturbed him most of all.

* * *

Jack waited as long as he could before checking in on Daniel again, not so much because he wanted to avoid the confrontation as because Daniel probably wanted to be alone. He was used to that – no matter how long they worked on the same team, he and Daniel would probably always have days when they wished the other out of their lives. Daniel had probably seen enough of him to last him for weeks, but Jack told himself that his need to keep apprised trumped Daniel's need to brood in his office, so a scant hour later found him in the Level 18 halls wondering how to barge in.

Daniel's door was closed but not locked; Jack gave him two knocks' notice before poking his head in. "What's up?" he said. _What's up_ was a suitably neutral greeting.

Daniel still looked about to explode, but his fuse seemed longer, at least. He didn't look up from his work. "I've got the first few lines pinned down. I think."

"That's good," Jack said. "That's progress."

"Not really."

Jack frowned. "You got–"

"I got the first few lines. As far as I know it says 'Woe unto my enemies who, having resolved to stand against me, have no recourse but death.' He probably starts everything with that, or with some variation, just to slow down anyone trying to translate it."

"So start later," Jack said.

Daniel shook his head. "Ancient is non-subject-prominent language, and in a lot of the older dialects, in long works, the subject is left out entirely after it's initially mentioned. Everything refers back to the beginning. You can't understand it unless you start there. So if I jump ahead past the topic statements I'll wind up wasting even more time, and I'll have to backtrack just to–"

"Okay," Jack said, cutting him off. "How long?"

"For the entire text? Weeks. Months. For the first section maybe tomorrow, maybe the day after. For something useful who knows. What are the al'kesh up to?"

"Well, there's still three of them, and they're still al'kesh," Jack said. "I think we'll know when Anubis shows up."

"Yeah, we'll probably notice when continents start disappearing," Daniel said.

Jack bit back a retort. He desperately disliked having to be the rational one, but diving into the sniping would do no good for either of them. "Yeah. Probably."

Daniel glared at his translation. He didn't have the time for this – they didn't have time for anything. But it was taking too long to just happen and be over.

Jack cleared his throat. "I'm sorry," he said.

Daniel shook his head. "For what?"

"About Satya," Jack offered.

Daniel shook his head. "It's not your fault."

_(Uh-oh.)_ This was familiar. "And it is yours?"

"What do you want from me?" Daniel asked. He sounded tired. Just tired.

Jack shrugged, looking to the wall. "I'm worried."

"About what? Me? Satya? The fact that this time, Earth probably will get destroyed?" Daniel jotted something down on his notepad. "This translation won't help us."

_(Too long to translate, too long to analyze, too long to implement.)_ He wanted to argue, but they both knew the truth. "No. You think that entity can?"

"Maybe. I know it's a long shot. But–"

"It's better than no chance." Jack folded his arms. _(What, so humor him now?)_ "So what's your plan? We can't go after it."

"I know that."

"Can't just wait for it to show up around here again."

"I know!"

_(So it's on us.)_ "Can it hear radio signals? If we sent a message through the 'gate, would it answer?"

"I don't know," Daniel said. "I never asked. ...it took her a while to learn speech; she might not even associate radio signals with communication. Maybe we should send a MALP," he suggested.

"The last MALP we sent spazzed out two seconds after it got through," Jack said.

"But–"

"You realize those things aren't exactly cheap."

"So take it out of my paycheck! When's the last time I had a chance to spend it anyway?"

"Okay, that was a rhetorical..." Jack stopped, and exhaled. "This is a bad idea."

"All we have are bad ideas."

"No, we have good ideas," Jack said. "The problem with those is that they're all impossible. I'm just not sure we should be wasting a MALP – or our time – on this."

"It's not wasting a MALP," Daniel argued. "If we get wiped out, who will care that we lost another probe now? If we find something on PV1-542, sending a MALP will be worth it."

_(Worth it. Assuming this isn't all just an exercise in futility.)_ Jack shook his head. "I'll make a recommendation."

Daniel waved a hand at the phone. Jack hesitated.

"...that works, too," he said, walking over. He'd have preferred to find Hammond and suggest if face-to-face, if only because he could be frank in his assessment of the options. Doing that in front of Daniel would be impolitic at best.

_(Politics.)_ He tried not to roll his eyes, picked up the phone, and dialed.

_"Hammond."_ Hammond answered quickly.

Jack cleared his throat. "General, this translation won't give us anything useful for our deadlines. Daniel's recommending we send a MALP to PV1-542, try to catch the entity's attention. It seems like it might be our best bet."

He could hear Hammond's uncertainty. _"Do we have any reason to assume that the entity will respond?"_

_(No,)_ Jack thought but couldn't say. "Well, it came after us once."

Hammond still didn't sound convinced. _"I'll have Siler prepare a MALP."_

"Forget the shielding," Jack said. "Nothing fancy – it won't make a difference, anyway. Just send it."

_"All right. We'll have it on the ramp in ten minutes."_

At least that was quick enough. "We'll be there." He hung up. "Ten minutes."

Daniel grunted an acknowledgment.

"Daniel?"

"I'll be there," Daniel said. "I'm going to keep translating."

_(For all the good that won't do.) _Jack couldn't respond to that. He couldn't decide if throwing himself at a useless translation was Daniel's version of optimism or fatalism.

"Do what you need to," he said at length. It was more than most of them could do.

* * *

Siler had the MALP on the ramp before seven minutes were up. Daniel showed up right at the ten-minute mark, dragging his notebook in with him. Jack had suggested they wait for his arrival, though if Daniel appreciated the gesture, he didn't say. "We ready?"

Hammond turned to the techs by way of answering. "Sergeant, send the probe."

"Yes, sir."

The Stargate spun to life, dialing PV1-542. Daniel fought a cringe when the wormhole flashed open; radiation couldn't travel both ways through, but the fact didn't put him at ease. At the moment, all they had between themselves and the pulsar was a corridor through spacetime and the dubious protection of the base. It didn't seem enough.

The MALP started up with a _whirr_, moving up the ramp and into the event horizon. "Receiving MALP telemetry," Walter said. "Signal strength at ninety-four percent."

Two seconds passed. Three.

"Transmission is holding," Walter said.

Jack's eyebrows hopped. "Scan," he said.

Walter brought up the sensor displays, data streaming back from the planet. "Area is clear," he said. "We're reading the first MALP – and sustainable life support."

"Negligible radiation, plenty of oxygen, even seventy-two degrees fahrenheit..." Daniel stared at the monitor. "Jack, she got it working again. She fixed the place up."

Jack sucked at the inside of his lower lip.

"If she knows how to work the safeguards, maybe she knows how to work everything else," Daniel pressed. "And if she knows that, maybe there's something there we can use. Something to give us an advantage."

"Yeah," Jack agreed. Loathe as he was to go back to the planet, letting Anubis conquer Earth was not an appealing alternative. He looked to Hammond. "General, I'd like to take a team."

"All of our engineering teams have been assigned to search for Alpha sites," Hammond said. "I'm hesitant to recall them."

"Daniel and I will check out '542 and report back," Jack said. "If we need backup we'll say so."

Hammond nodded. "Take Dr. McKay," he ordered. "Report back every half-hour, and stay on radio."

Jack pushed away from the desk. "Yes, _sir_."

* * *

Even when Jack knew he'd be leading a team of three, he still had to do a double-take when they assembled on the ramp. One of the techs had taken the time to outfit McKay, though he still looked unprepared. _(Another civilian,)_ Jack thought, though he didn't really think of Daniel as civilian any more. He would have objected, if military prowess meant anything on '542.

SG-1 had been dismantled and frankensteined together. That was what bothered him – they were missing Teal'c, missing Carter, and a new guy had been drafted in because no one else was available. McKay hadn't been supposed to go offworld. It wasn't in his contract, wasn't in his training. Exceptions had been made for the end of the world.

Siler wandered up the ramp with a handful of pens, selecting one from the bunch. "Dosimeters," he said, clipping the pen to Jack's MOLLE without ceremony. "Parts of the installation may still be irradiated. You'll need to periodically check your dose; hold the lens up to a light and read _here_." He tapped a small window on the end. "It's your discretion when to return, but keep in mind radiation workers aren't usually allowed in fields over 100 milliröentgens per hour, and anything over 100 REM will present serious health risk."

"Radiation bad. Got it." He glanced over his team, and fought the feeling that this was an act of desperation.

Above, Hammond stepped up to the intercom. "Colonel, be advised that Anubis' hok'ha'tak has arrived in the solar system. It and the Al'kesh are approaching Earth at sublight, and the _Prometheus_ has been launched to intercept."

Jack inhaled. "All right, kids, it's now or never. General, we're ready to go."

"Godspeed, SG-1," Hammond said as the 'gate began to turn. "And good luck."

Jack looked over his team again, trying not to notice how compulsive the action had become. Daniel wore an unusual grim focus, and McKay was mumbling to himself – the few snatches Jack caught were the kind of technobabble that had come out of Carter's mouth, but these were nervous and rushed.

"McKay?"

McKay was staring at the Stargate as if it would reach out and irradiate him. He jumped visibly when Jack hailed him. "Hm?"

Jack gestured to the 'gate just as it opened. McKay didn't jump again, but he didn't look comfortable either. "Problem?"

"Huh? Oh, no – no. I've just never actually been through–" he flapped a finger at the ring.

"It's nothing," Jack said, starting up the ramp. McKay trailed along after him, still eyeing the event horizon. _(In any case, it's no more dangerous than staying here.)_

"I mean, I know all the physics," McKay went on, "in exacting, tedious detail, but–"

"It's not bad," Daniel put in, falling into step. "A bit disorienting. That's all."

Jack raised an eyebrow at the lie. "Disorienting," McKay repeated.

"Yeah," Daniel improvised. "Takes a moment to get your bearings."

"Well, that doesn't sound too bad–"

"It's not." Daniel reached over, clapping his shoulder in a supposedly encouraging fashion. "Just step through."

"Right," McKay said, but paused at the event horizon regardless. "Right. ...after you."

Jack growled. "Come on, Doctor," he said, summarily seizing McKay's vest. "One small step." He heaved him through.

Daniel cast him a disparaging look, which Jack ignored as he stepped into the event horizon after McKay. Time was against them, moreso than usual.

The world fuzzed and washed out, a split second of conscious thought trying to interpret its own dissolution/reconstitution–

–and Jack arrived in the recycled air of an alien world.

His hackles raised immediately. But this time no sirens were blaring, and no one was running to evacuate – he checked his dosimeter, just in case.

Daniel came through behind him as McKay stood from his left. "I think one of us is confused as to what 'disorienting' entails," McKay said.

"Move out," Jack ordered. He wanted to spend as little time here as possible. In the interests of civility Daniel offered McKay a hand up, but it was quickly waved off.

"Right," McKay said. "Now. Assuming we wanted the status of the entire base, we should probably head to the system control facility, which would be–"

"This way," Jack called.

"That way," McKay finished, stepping after him.

The base was different. It had always been quiet, but now it was dead; dust hadn't had time to settle or had been filtered from the air, but a palpable sense of disuse hung between the walls.

Jack found himself counting his steps, guessing how long a mad dash to the Stargate would take. He'd spent enough time memorizing floorplans that he knew his way around now, and he knew better than to trust this place.

"A bit creepy here, isn't it?" McKay asked with poorly-disguised unease. He glanced out the window into the pocked, grey landscape. "This place is worse than Russia."

"Yeah. Russia doesn't have a killer star hitting it every four seconds," Jack said. For the next three hallways they walked in silence.

The base was filled with artifacts, recent and ancient. It was frightening how easily the abandoned SGC tools faded into the base, how well they fit beside inscrutable alien devices. They sunk into history without meaning to. The de facto SG-1 moved through them like ghosts – a simile Jack's mind was too happy to provide.

The control room was abandoned. Even knowing that it would be, it still felt odd – it had never been abandoned, from the time SG-1 had arrived until they had called the evac. Only the consoles displayed any semblance of life, tracking a myriad of systems.

"These consoles wouldn't run continuously," McKay said, approaching the central terminal. "Which means someone's gone through and activated them. Probably the entity. Our priority should be–"

"Where is she?" Daniel asked.

"Wh – the entity? I have no idea," McKay said. "But these systems are already up and running; I can probably get most of what I need without–"

"Can you find out where she is?" Daniel interrupted.

McKay exhaled. "Well, I can if you–"

"Please do," Daniel said, just as sharply. McKay muttered something, typing rapidly into the console.

The air directly before and above them flickered, illusory tints washing in. After a second they formed a translucent schematic of the base in blue and green, complete with white damage to the corridors where Anubis' tel'taks had struck.

"If I'm reading this correctly most of the system controls have been rerouted through a computer array somewhere in this section over _here_," McKay said, jabbing at the hologram. "It makes sense. If the entity interacts physically instead of virtually with the computer cores, it would make things easier to have everything in one place. Hopefully one place that wouldn't blow out like our computer banks did."

"Is it still there?" Jack asked.

McKay jabbed at the consoles. "I don't know. Possibly. I'm sure this place _has_ internal energy sensors, but as for using them–"

"Right. Let's head in that direction, then," Jack said, checking his watch and dosimeter. The dosimeter hadn't recorded any radiation at all – a good sign. Or it was broken. "McKay, you good to stay on your own a bit?"

McKay's face went from fervent interest to concerned unease in half a second. "The place is totally abandoned, right?"

"As far as we know."

"And you'll have your radios–"

"You'll be fine," Jack said, sorry he'd brought it up. "We'll check in on you."

"Right," McKay said, turning his attention to the console after a nervous glance toward the door. "Don't be long."

"We won't," Jack said, double-checking the position on the hologram and following Daniel out the door.

He'd made it most of the way down the observation hall when something glinting on the ground drew his attention. Buttons, eyelets, a zipper, a scattering of green lint. He studied them a moment before realizing with a lurch what they were. _(Remains.)_

Swallowing bile, he glanced around for Daniel. Daniel hadn't noticed them yet – while his back was turned, Jack dipped down and scooped them up, concealing them in one pocket. It was the only thing he knew to do, morbid as it felt.

Everything showed that Satya – or something – had scrubbed the base. What should have been totally irradiated was now inert as ever. At the same time, touching the bits and pieces made him feel ill – as if some part of him perversely refused to let go of the idea that Carter was still here, that they could come back and round a corner and see her sitting against a wall waiting or moving through a lab exploring. Instead he carried all that was left of her in his left pocket so that Daniel wouldn't have to face the truth that way.

He ran his fingers over the lumps in his pocket. He was surprised they hadn't found anything else – a radio, a knife, a sidearm, any other inorganic anything. But in a way it also made sense. She'd been running, last he saw her. She had to move fast. She'd probably shed anything that could slow her down, as little good as it had done her.

"You all right?"

"Huh?" He looked over. "Fine. Why?"

"You're rubbing your side," Daniel said.

Jack yanked his hand away. _(Of course, he chooses that to be astute about.)_ "Don't worry about it."

Daniel looked away, compulsively checking his dosimeter. Jack did the same, wincing. _(I should probably not mention this little fixation to Hammond. We'd never get out of MacKenzie's sessions.)_

The hallway turned, terminating in a window-ceilinged cluster of open terminals and labs. The terminals were active, with occasional lines of misty white light drifting across the displays. The lines coalesced when Jack and Daniel approached, emerging from the banks to hover just above them.

Daniel drew to a halt. "Maybe I should handle this alone," he said.

_(Geez, nobody wants me around today.)_ "Daniel–"

"I'll be on radio."

Jack was about to protest again, but Daniel would probably be as safe with Satya as he would anywhere. And worrying that it wasn't actually Satya glowing away in the middle of the room was paranoid even for him. "Right," he said. "Make friends. But keep it short."

"I'll try."

"I'll go report to Hammond," Jack said.

Daniel nodded as Jack left. "See you."

Satya waited until he walked up to her – about the same distance they'd kept in his lab – before saying anything. _(Hello.)_

There was something oddly reassuring in the standard greeting. "Hello."

_(I expected you to return.)_

Daniel studied his feet. "I don't suppose you want to talk."

_(About what?)_

"Well, we could start with my incredible lack of tact and consideration. I wanted to say I'm sorry."

Satya pulsed. _(When I came to your world I assumed you were the original inhabitants of this one. Your indiscretion was no greater than mine.)_

"I'd disagree," Daniel said. "You were willing to accept your mistake and move on from there. I just kept seeing what I wanted to see."

Satya steadied. _(Why do you do this?)_

"Why?" Daniel shrugged. "I guess sometimes it's easier. Or it makes me feel better. Gives me hope. Maybe–"

She flashed again. _(That wasn't my question.)_

Daniel looked up, taking in the spread and subtle motion of her light. He couldn't read her. He doubted he'd ever be able to. "What do you mean?"

_(You admit fault, and when that's disputed you defend your assertion than revise it. It serves no purpose. You have no conclusive evidence. You don't enjoy it. Why do you do it?)_

He gaped. He had no idea how to answer. Satya, with her alien curiosity, had stricken to the heart of something he'd never worked through or escaped. _(You're definitely Ascended,)_ he thought. _(Or very observant. Oma told me something similar.)_ "I don't know," he admitted.

_(We're friends?)_ Satya asked. Awkwardly, she appended a gentle _(Daniel.)_

"I want us to be," Daniel said.

_(Good.)_ The emphatic clarity of the word touched him. _(I want our friendship, Daniel. This is valuable to me.)_

"And to me." He stuck his hands in his pockets, glancing past the rim on his glasses. "I wish you knew Sam. I really do. I wish you had the opportunity to be friends with her." _(Instead you were just perfectly too late.)_

_(You miss her,)_ she said. _(Very much.)_

"Yes." He pushed his glasses back up on his nose. "But I'm coming to terms with it. With knowing she's not out there any more."

_(Then I'm more fortunate than you,)_ Satya said. _(I, we, may be able to reclaim identity.)_

"But maybe not for a very long time," Daniel said.

She flickered. _(I don't know about that.)_

He found himself laughing, wondering if she'd meant the double meaning – whether she'd admitted ignorance of duration or hope for it happening soon. Maybe it was his linguistic focus showing through, but he found it fantastic that she could turn such a phrase. In something so little, it didn't matter if he'd misinterpreted it. He didn't ask her to clarify.

"Satya, do you still want to help us?"

_(Of course,)_ Satya answered.

"We have a lot of work to do," Daniel said. "Come on."

* * *

Jack fought a powerful sense of deja vu as he walked down the hall toward the Stargate, despite the fact that everything changeable had changed since he had been here last. But PSR-PV1 still flashed outside the windows, and Anubis was still their enemy, and that was enough.

He hadn't made it back to the 'gate when his radio clicked. _"Colonel O'Neill, come in."_

Jack checked his watch. He still had a good four minutes. "General," he said, hand on his radio. "I was just heading back to check in. Daniel's talking to the entity, and McKay is with the computers. Nothing yet."

_"Understood,"_ Hammond said. _"Colonel, be advised that Anubis has withdrawn his hok'ha'tak from the system. According to CAIRN II it entered hyperspace heading in your direction."_

Jack looked up on instinct. The stars outside looked no more or less friendly than they ever had. "Roger that. We'll stand ready to evac. Do you have an ETA?"

"_Our rough estimate is between two and three hours."_

"We'll plan to head back at one-forty-five," Jack said.

A beat passed. _"Colonel."_

"Yes, sir?"

_"Four more al'kesh have entered the solar system. We estimate they'll be in orbit of Jupiter in about an hour, which they may use as the final staging ground for their assault on Earth."_

Jack stopped in his tracks. "General, if we should withdraw–"

_"There's nothing you can do here."_ Hammond's voice was flat and absolute. _"When we've confirmed their final approach, the president has decided to inform the world."_

He stood for a while with his hand on the radio. "Are we really there, sir?"

_"We may be."_ Hammond let that hang. _"Continue to check in periodically."_

"Will do."

_"SGC out,"_ Hammond said, and cut the line.

Jack stood in the hall for a moment, frowning at the window. He hit his radio again. "Daniel? McKay? You monitoring that?"

Daniel responded first. _"Yeah."_

_"Should we really be staying here?"_ McKay asked. "_These systems could take weeks if not months to learn."_

_(Weeks if not months. Where have I heard that before?)_ "It sounds like Earth won't be much safer for long," he said. "Daniel, can Satya help with the systems?"

Silence from the other end. Daniel was probably trying to phrase the question in a way it'd understand. _"She thinks so,"_ came the answer at length. _"She's been in and out of them. Literally, I think."_

"Right. McKay, you hold tight. We'll meet up with you."

_"Right."_

The insidious voice from his prior visit returned. _Run,_ it said. _Get your people out of here. There's nothing useful they can do._

There was nowhere to run. Anubis was at Earth, had destroyed the Beta site. Their options were few and dwindling.

The sky felt dark and heavy, ready to fall down.

* * *

Meanwhile, on a distant world, orbiting beneath different stars, Teal'c marched through the post-midnight gloom with six Jaffa moving swiftly behind him.

The Beta Site still smelled of smoke and ash, but the cold wind had washed most of it away. The fires had long since guttered out, and the trills of night insects were once again in full force. Save for his team, the world was as devoid of intelligent life as it had been before the Tau'ri had come.

But not, Teal'c suspected, devoid of purpose.

Moye'd was a short, dark Jaffa with a knot of black hair tight at his nape. He had never been a formidable warrior, and never tried to be. But he lived up to his name, which in Jaffa meant _Thought_. He had served in Olokun's ranks as an engineer, one of the few trusted with knowledge of Goa'uld "magic." As such, he was one of the Jaffa Rebellion's greatest assets.

His eyes picked their target out against the speckled stars before the others, tracing its contours against the sky. "An al'kesh," he said with reverence. "Anubis'. What a find."

"We can hope," Teal'c said. "Please examine it."

Moye'd broke into a trot, scanning over the downed craft in increasing detail. He reached its side, running hands over its hull as if it were a living thing. "On the surface it appears so similar to the ones that I know," he said, pulling himself up to one of the engine maintenance hatches and straddling an exhaust duct. "But what does it breathe, and what does it eat? Jol'ec, help me open this."

The young Jaffa bowed and clambered up beside him, bending over the hatch as Moye'd pulled apart the panel. "We do not have the codes, and these symbols are strange to me."

"Anubis no longer speaks the language of Ra," Moye'd said. "We will pry his bird apart. I will unlatch it; you pull."

Teal'c watched, reigning in his anticipation. Some things could not be hurried, and most things which could suffered for it. Moye'd worked with admirable precision at the cost of speed.

At last the hatch groaned open. Moye'd accepted a zat'nik'tel from Jol'ec, and disappeared inside.

Teal'c looked back to his team. Without instruction, they had taken up positions of guard and were watching the trees and plains. He himself was at rest and at ready, waiting for something to change.

Moye'd reappeared as quickly as he could. "The crash has shaken it badly, and the Jaffa inside are dead. A few lights flicker and the rest have gone out. Its engines are silent and cold; its heart no longer beats."

Teal'c nodded. "Can it be salvaged?"

Moye'd wiped at the dirt on the hull, uncovering shallow missile scars. "It does not appear to be badly damaged," he said. "The ship itself is intact, though unlovely. It is only the engines which have failed. If Jol'ec will fetch crystals from our tel'taks, I see no reason we may not coax it to fly."

"What kind?" Jol'ec asked.

"All you can lay hands on. Many will have burnt out and those which have not will be heat-fractured regardless. We will replace what we can."

Teal'c turned to Jol'ec. "Go immediately."

Jol'ec bowed and loped for the Stargate.

"How much time do you require?" Teal'c said.

Moye'd looked to the stars. "Until the sun is _there_," he said, pointing to a spot in the sky and estimating the length of night and day. "And where do you intend to take this craft, when it flies?"

"Where it will do most good," Teal'c said.

Moye'd stepped around the the nose, hands searching for the emergency hatch. "You cannot hope to challenge Anubis with but one ship, no matter how many of his secrets it holds."

"Perhaps not," Teal'c agreed. "But we may do more now than we could have before."

"The mountain is conquered in a thousand small steps," Moye'd said. "Yes. We shall take this where it will do most good, like the knife thrown to the heart. And we shall hope your friends of the Tau'ri climb with us."


	13. Redux

SG-1, plus Satya, convened in '542's control room grim and desperate. "Right," Jack said. "We need an advantage. Anything. What do we have?"

Daniel looked to Satya. Jack looked to McKay.

McKay made an unhappy noise toward the console. "We've got power. Lots of it. It's not all distributing evenly over the base thanks to Anubis' last attack, but it's there."

"All right. And?"

McKay inhaled. "What, every operational system on the base? We have lights, we have life support, we have computers, we have a handful of safeguards, we have the Stargate. If you're thinking about weapons, we don't have them."

"Not conventional weapons," Daniel said. "What about unconventional ones? A way to disable, or... or take control of a ship from a distance? The base has a long-range transmitter," he began.

"Yes, and if we wanted to send him a petition, that would be worth something," McKay shot back. "It's not the same as an uplink."

"All right, what about jamming?" Jack asked. "He can't attack us if he can't see us."

"If he can't see the planet?" McKay scoffed.

"If he can't target this base," Jack said. "Can we blind his weapons? Screw up his ships' navigation?"

McKay thought. "Maybe," he said.

"How long?" Jack asked.

"Well, without knowing anything about the transmitter's configuration, without knowing anything about Anubis' ship–"

"Doctor," Jack said.

"Look, I don't know!" McKay stalked to a console, calling up long lists that Jack couldn't read. "Hours. Hours and hours of trial and error."

"Okay. That won't work."

"No," McKay shot back. "Probably not. We'd have better luck with these safeguards. Keeping in mind that 'better' is a relative term."

Jack looked around. "Come on. Anyone got a brilliant idea? Anyone?"

Daniel looked to Satya. Satya stared at McKay.

"Wait a minute," McKay said, hands poised above the console.

"Brilliant idea?" Jack asked.

"Maybe." He keyed something up. "There's something in here about a diagnostic shield. A backup system. It hasn't been used in some time, but–"

"Doctor."

"It catches and routes radiation back up into space," McKay said. "Probably something left over from when this system was constructed. Now, naturally they wouldn't want to use it now, because the less radiation gets through to the planet the less energy they can harvest, but–"

"Doctor!" Jack said again.

He turned around. "Look. It'll take a lot of the energy stored in the batteries, and I may not be able to reconfigure it in time, but if I can set this up over our working safeguards and reprogram it so it uses the radiation to blast away incoming matter, I might be able to get us a shield."

"Do it," Jack said.

McKay was already facing the panel again. "Of course, I'll need to pull the data of the previous attack," he said, "and I don't think anything was keeping tabs on it, so this'll be interesting. Dr. Jackson, I'll need you to go through some logs for me."

"Right," Daniel said, approaching the nearest console. "What do you need?"

"Records. Recent. Everything you can get your hands on – power logs, fluctuation reports–"

"Okay." He brought up the screens, and they set to work.

* * *

Half an hour in, scarce progress had been made. While Jack went to check in with Hammond – keeping his radio on a different channel so as not to distract them – Daniel, McKay and Satya had stayed behind to scrape a plan together out of a theory, a handful of possibilities and systems none of them fully understood.

McKay had been tying together everything he could into a control node, which wasn't easy because the system had never been designed to be reprogrammed. "We'll need a massive initialization pulse to reset the shield," he said. "Not to mention the problem of bringing it online in the first place. Now, it'll draw power from the batteries, but reconfiguring it will have to take place from here." He patted the central control pylon. "Satya. Can you bring this on?"

Satya stared at its nearest panel for a moment. "This would be easier were I not physical," she said.

"Well, that shouldn't be a problem, should it?" McKay asked, circling around the console. "I mean, you can change back at any time, right?"

"No," Satya said.

McKay paused. "No?"

"I can't move objects unless I'm like this," Satya said. "But I don't like changing. It's hard. It... hurts."

Daniel looked up. "You can feel pain?"

"Pain?" She shook her head. "Analogous."

"I don't understand," Daniel said.

She raised her hands as if in demonstration. "I'm afraid?" she said. "I think. I recognize danger. I don't want it to happen. To use most systems, I have to allow the possibility."

"Danger?" Daniel asked. "You mean from Anubis, or–"

"From things. I'm – stuck," she said, dissatisfaction with the word showing in her tone. Daniel felt irrationally proud that she could convey that. "So I can approximate this shape. Static. That's what I can control. If something interrupts me, I might fly apart. That's – reaction time?" She shook her head, edging between gesture and vibration. "Then there wouldn't be me, just energy."

McKay looked up. "Wait, wait wait wait. Are you saying you can be injured like that?" he asked. "Injured or killed?"

_(Is that death?)_ she asked over her words. "Yes. I could dissipate, while trying to... hold together." _(This is hard!)_ she protested, and for a moment Daniel thought she meant remaining physical. _(So few words!)_ "It takes energy to change. And concentration. And–"

"We understand," Daniel said, glancing at McKay. "We won't make you change."

McKay didn't look happy with that promise, but he didn't object. "Right. Well, can you push buttons, or–"

Satya pried off the terminal casing, blunt fingers seeking through the wiring to isolate a cluster of crystals. Her eyes dimmed for a moment, her hand sparked, and the connected terminals lit up.

"Crystal technology," McKay realized aloud. "Integrated instead of mainline. Huh."

"Is that significant?" Daniel asked.

"To this problem? Not at all."

"This doesn't have much power," Satya said. "It broke when things hit the lines that bring power in from the pulsar. It will stop working."

"Then let's go fast, shall we?" McKay said. "Dr. Jackson, if you could help me with some of these readouts–"

Satya pointed to one of the central banks. "It keeps power in there," she said. I can give it more, but if I do that while they're accessing data, it will flood and all the data will be gone."

McKay pulled back. "So what do you want to do?"

"Make it inactive. Then I can charge it. That will be better."

"And how long will that take?" McKay asked.

Satya stared.

"She doesn't–" Daniel started.

"Right. Of course. Silly me." McKay waved a hand. "Fine!"

Satya wandered over to the bank, pulling off the casing. "Deactivate this," she said.

Daniel reached over, tapping his best guess as to the power button. The consoles flashed amiably, and powered down. "You're good."

"Thank you?" Satya asked.

"Good to go," McKay clarified. "Charge it."

Satya reached in, finding a net of interlinked crystals and twining her fingers into it. She shifted and dimmed, light moving through her and into the battery.

"Satya?" Daniel asked.

Satya continued fading, draining more and more energy into the network.

"Satya!" Daniel yelled. She flickered. He crossed the distance, laying a hand on her shoulder. "Hey!"

She let go of the network, staring at him from dim eyes. _(Did I do something wrong?)_

Daniel released her. His hand tingled, pins and needles from his palm to his wrist. "Are you all right?"

She wasn't nearly so luminous. She moved her hands. "I'm fine."

"You're an energy being," Daniel said. "I should have asked if it would hurt you to power this up."

_(I would have stopped before I risked dissipation,)_ Satya said. "I can obtain more energy. Shouldn't this be done?"

"She obviously knows what she's doing," McKay broke in. "We've got just about enough to try this, I think."

Daniel shot him a glare, but they didn't have time to debate. "So you can turn it on?"

"No, I can probably reprogram it once it's up," McKay said. "Look, this hasn't been on in a few thousand years. It was so far buried in the programming that if I hadn't been studying this thing since I got the reports on it I wouldn't know what it was. Does the word 'mothballed' mean anything to you?"

Daniel had never met anyone with the same ability to gripe in the face of danger as Dr. McKay, and hoped not to meet many more. "What do you want me to do?"

"For the moment, shut up," McKay said.

Daniel resisted the urge to retort, and walked over to one of the consoles. At the very least, he could read up.

His radio clicked. _"Daniel, McKay, what's your status?"_

Daniel responded without thinking, beating McKay to it. "It's going to take a while."

The radio clicked off.

Daniel frowned. "Jack?"

No answer.

"You're not on this channel any more, are you?"

Nothing.

Daniel let go of the radio and turned to the terminal again. "Shouldn't he be listening in case we need help, or something?" McKay asked.

"He's probably talking with Hammond," Daniel said. "He'll switch back to this channel–"

_"All right, guys, no good news,"_ Jack said. _"CAIRN II lost Anubis' ha'tak on its way here. The _Prometheus_ is heading out to intercept the al'kesh, hopefully take out a few before they make it to Earth."_

Daniel stopped. McKay did, too. "Can it do that?" he asked, looking to Daniel but keying his radio.

Half a second too much passed. _"It doesn't look good."_

"Anything we can do?" Daniel asked.

_"The best thing you can do is get that shield up,"_ Jack said. _"The Alpha List is assembled, but they have nowhere to go. Get us a defensible position."_

This time, McKay didn't bite back. Daniel paused a moment, waiting for the retort, but McKay only blanched and bent over his console. "We're trying."

_"I'll pass that along."_

McKay turned to them. "Look, we need to turn this on," he said.

"All right. What do you want me to do?" Daniel asked.

"I need someone to finish powering it up," McKay said. "Satya!"

"How much more do you need?"

McKay muttered something and moved his laptop from one terminal to another, managing the wires with uncharacteristic dexterity. "About – percents. You understand percents?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Another thirty or so percent more than you just gave me."

Satya shook her head. "I can't give you that much."

McKay's expression crashed through disbelief and terror on its way to frustration. "Well–"

"We'll find another way," Daniel interrupted.

"There is no other way," McKay said, turning back to his computer. "Power is power. If we want to bring up the shield–"

"I can bring more power in," Satya said. "It's more complex."

"Re-route it, you mean," McKay said.

She nodded. "Some of the systems are less difficult to repair."

"Go! Go!" McKay said, waving her out the door. Satya nodded, and wandered off.

Daniel cast him a look. "You know, it wouldn't kill you to be polite."

"Being polite takes time, which we don't have. So technically, it could," McKay said, performing inscrutable operations on his console.

"Right," Daniel muttered. No use talking to some people.

He looked over the console, brushing off the engraved symbols, killing time by running through all the writing systems he knew. He'd just decided that the script was closer to Linear B script than anything, even while it showed strong runic influence, when there was a noise from the hall.

Jack stepped back in, looking over the room as if there'd be some visual indication of how far they'd come. Daniel could see him biting back the question, and answered it anyway. "Not much progress."

"I guessed that." Jack walked around the room's circumference, looking over consoles he couldn't operate. "So, your friend is–"

McKay vanished underneath one of the terminals. "Satya went to re-route power," he said.

Jack raised an eyebrow at the two shins he could see. "And you're–?"

"Being distracted by you," the associated head responded. "Making absolutely sure I can alter the frequency of this thing."

"Aha," Jack said, and looked to Daniel. Daniel shrugged. Once again, they were auxiliaries here. There was nothing they could do.

"I think we've just about got the sensors back on line," McKay said. "So anytime Satya wants to power them up–"

The screens fuzzed on.

McKay poked his head out from under the console. "Nice timing."

The panel warbled.

Jack tilted his head at it. "You gonna get that?"

Daniel turned, blinking at the red light. He frowned. "I recognize this," he said, hands on the console. "...uh-oh."

"Uh-oh?"

"Three al'kesh," Daniel said.

Jack scanned the screen. "Anubis is paying us another visit."

"Looks like it."

"Who keeps tipping him off?" Jack asked. "This trip was the _definition_ of unplanned. Nobody knows we're here."

"Except the entities," McKay said, looking up.

"I don't think they'd go out of their way to tell anyone anything," Daniel said.

"Okay. At the moment, who called him here is probably the least of our problems," McKay broke in. "Now, the ha'tak is probably still an hour off, but if Anubis crashes one of those al'kesh here..."

"Yeah." Jack nodded. "Yeah. We're leaving. Grab your gear."

"What about Satya?" Daniel asked.

Jack looked at the sky. "Right. This place have a PA?"

"Not that I've found," McKay said.

Jack bit at the inside of his lip. "Leave a note," he said. "She knows how to follow us home."

"Jack," Daniel said.

"Daniel, we leave, or we're dead," Jack said. He had a hand on his P-90, for all the good it wouldn't do. "You don't know where she is, we don't have the time or manpower for a hunt."

Daniel hesitated.

Jack grit his teeth, eyes burning. "She'll survive."

"How do you know?" Daniel asked, but grabbed his pack. They were leaving people behind again, but Satya belonged here in a way they didn't. And Jack would make the case that she wasn't _their people_ anyway.

* * *

They made it to the 'gateroom at a jog, and Daniel went to the DHD to dial. Picking out the constellations was second-nature by now; he'd learned to touch-type his way across the galaxy. The last time he'd mis-dialled was before his Ascension, sometime in his second year.

So when the 'gate didn't open, it took barely half a second before they knew something was wrong.

"Maybe the Earth gate is open?" Daniel suggested.

"Yeah," Jack said, utterly unconvinced. "That's probably it."

"Okay." Daniel's hand hovered over the DHD. "And the Beta Site is out. So...?"

"Tok'ra base," Jack said.

Daniel nodded, scanning the symbols. As soon as his memory jogged, he dialed.

No response.

"So maybe the Tok'ra are evacuating to Earth?" Daniel said, clearly reaching.

"Sounds like them," Jack agreed. "Land of Light."

"Land of Light," Daniel said, hitting the symbols at doubletime. Still, the 'gate refused to open.

"Anubis has probably taken or destroyed a number of inhabited planets through the galaxy," McKay pointed out, jabbing a finger at the DHD. "You might have more luck with an uninhabited world, one closer to the galactic core, if I remember his attack plan–"

"Problem with that," Jack said. "My galactic geography isn't up to par so I really don't know what planets you're talking about, but the majority of uninhabited worlds we've found are uninhabited for good reason."

"One of the old Tok'ra planets," Daniel said. "They're of no strategic importance, and–"

"Right, right." Jack stepped up, punching in the coordinates. Nothing happened.

McKay looked to Daniel. "...this is seeming less and less like a coincidence," he said.

Daniel looked to Jack. Jack looked to the 'gate, unconcealed unease written in the lines of his face. "This is a problem," he said.

"Anubis has a way to shut down 'gates from a distance," Daniel surmised. "Which means we're stuck here."

_(Stuck.)_ Trapped like – there were too many similes, all too apt. Like Carter behind the Iris, behind the distance, behind the time that was just minutes not long enough. Trapped with no weapons, no means of escape, and a sky that would kill them as readily as weapons would. More readily, even. "Satya," Jack said. "See if it knows what to about this. It can work the stuff around here."

"And the 'gate," Daniel agreed, already backing toward the door. "Yeah. I'll find her."

"Now," Jack suggested. "McKay, we're going to need that shield up, really fast."

"I understand that," McKay said. "But you can't just ignore the laws of computational mechanics whenever it's convenient for you!"

"Right now I'm not listening to anything that comes after a 'but,'" Jack said. "If Anubis shows up and we can't get out of here, that shield is going to be the only things keeping us from joining Carter in the Heavenly Choir."

McKay's mouth worked, but no sound came out. "...right," he said at length.

"I'll keep trying to dial Earth," Jack said, aware that it would do no good. "If I call you back, don't waste any time."

"I won't," McKay said, hesitating anyway. "...right. I'll be in the auxiliary systems mainframe."

Jack nodded and McKay jogged off.

He turned to the DHD, punching in the address again. This was like throwing sand at a tank, hoping to stop its onslaught.

Jack didn't want to die on '542. And he didn't want Daniel to die there – and, hell, he didn't want McKay to die there either. Sometimes there were no choices.

The 'gate didn't come on, Anubis didn't leave, and the sun counted down like a timer. Jack tried not to realize that there was no way out of this one.

* * *

It was odd, Daniel thought. Their entire plan had hinged on getting Satya to help them, but no one had thought far enough ahead to outfit her as a member of the team. And, since no one had given her a radio, he had no recourse in finding her but running through the hallways hollering "_Satya_!" at the top of his lungs.

Come to think of it, _odd_ was a kind word for what he thought of the affair.

He found Satya in a side hall, working through a bundle of crystal-optical cables. Energy flowed out of them, through her hands, and back in; she looked stronger, if only nominally. "Satya," he said, and she looked up.

"This is wrong," Satya said.

Daniel looked over the conduit. Their only plan breaking would not be good. "What is?"

"This," Satya said, and her voice wavered. _(Everything. He's changing the application of physics in this region. I'm uncomfortable.)_

Daniel shook his head. "What? He's jamming the Stargate, is that what you mean?"

_(That would be an effect. He's rendered things nonfunctional.)_

_("Things." That's specific.)_ "Satya, we need your help."

She looked up at him. "I'm helping."

"–yes, yes you are." He pointed back down the hallway. "Can you make the Stargate work again?"

"No," she said. "He's making it not. I can't change what he's doing." She tilted her head. "I'm helping Dr. McKay. Is that still useful?"

"It'll have to be," he said. "Are you done here?"

"I can be."

"Okay," he said, and keyed his radio. "I found Satya."

_"Well, get it down here!"_ Jack yelled over the line.

"She can't fix the 'gate," Daniel said. "She might be able to help with the shield, but–"

_"Well, that's better than nothing,"_ McKay broke in._ "Could you get her over here? I need some help with this program!"_

"We're on our way," Daniel said, putting a hand on Satya's back and pulling her toward the door.

_"No – Dr. Jackson, I need you to_ _go up to the main control room and access the computers there. There's information I can't get from here."_

Daniel glanced down the hall. "Yeah. What do you need?"

_"I'll relay info to you once you're there,"_ McKay said. _"Readings, settings – I don't know enough about how these are set up to reprogram them from scratch."_

"Right. On my way." He looked to Satya. "Help–"

"I'll help Dr. McKay." She regarded him. "You're afraid."

_(Not now!)_ "Yes, I am, and we can discuss that at length if we get out of here," Daniel said. "But–"

"It's an issue of duration," she said.

His heart skipped. "You understand?"

"No. I recognize." She turned and clomped off. For an instant Daniel wanted to follow her, but his own sense of time kicked in. He ran for the main control room.

* * *

The displays were online when he got there, familiar and threatening. He could read the positions of Anubis' ships on the map, and the proximity alarm was a strobing red.

On the map, something large was drawing toward the planet.

Daniel fumbled his radio on. "Jack, the ha'tak is moving into orbit," he said. "It doesn't look like the star is going to stop it."

_"Yeah, didn't guess it would this time,"_ Jack said. _"No luck here on the 'gate."_

_(Didn't think there would be,)_ Daniel thought. "McKay, I'm in the control room. What do you–"

_"All right, access the main logs and call up everything you can about the last attack – and I mean everything,"_ McKay ordered. _"Bring up every record that was made or modified during the time Anubis was here."_

He entered the appropriate commands. "I'm getting several million records."

_"Good,"_ McKay said. _"Now let's narrow them down."_

The next minutes were a blur of radio traffic – McKay goading him to subroutine logs and sensor logs and error logs and whose function eluded Daniel entirely, weeding out one set of data in favor of another. The transition between words spoken and written vanished entirely, and until the first blast hit he blanked out everything but the transfer.

A rising whine came from one of the computers. The walls cracked, a netting of hairline fractures lacing through the composite.

_(You should not be standing!)_

Satya hit him, sending a shock like static through his entire body. He could feel his heart spasm and reset itself and he hit the floor with Satya crouched over him, and the console two terminals down exploded. "What was that!"

Satya turned to the display. "Anubis is attacking."

Daniel picked himself up, rushing back to the panel. "I know. –I thought you were helping McKay!"

"I was." She blinked. "I can't help unless he specifies. He doesn't know what to do. Do you?"

Daniel scanned the screen. He didn't know the language nearly well enough to make sense of it, except that pulses of energy were tearing through the thin atmosphere, hitting the ground around them. "No. I don't."

"But you're moving. You're doing."

"We don't just sit around and wait to be killed," Daniel explained. "It's not our way. Satya, this really isn't the time–"

"And you may die. It's a risk you take."

Daniel grit his teeth. Satya understood _position_ in time if not duration; she had to understand that the moment wasn't opportune. Or maybe she didn't know how little time they had. "We may."

Satya looked at the screen, and turned her head away. "Do you know what I should do?"

"You would know better than I do."

"I don't. How do you know to do what you do?"

"One sec." He hit his radio. "McKay, the second reading is three-nine-decimal-one-one. Is that it?"

_"Maybe,"_ McKay said. _"Hold on. Let me check."_

Daniel had already scrolled past it. "Sometimes it's instinct," he said, hunting out the equations and constants. "Sometimes it's orders."

"And McKay gives you orders?"

"Jack gives the orders," Daniel explained. "He's the only tactician here. But McKay is our best bet, if you don't know what to do."

"I understand," Satya said. "The Colonel will know what to do."

"I didn't say that," Daniel said.

"What do we do?"

"We try to give him some idea."

Satya nodded. "Okay."

"So if you have anything," Daniel said, furiously scrolling past status reports. "If you have any idea how to defend us–"

Satya didn't answer. Daniel made it through another three pages, waiting with half an ear, before he looked up.

Satya was gone.

* * *

Jack was hanging onto the DHD, trying another futile dial and waiting for vacuum or radiation to rush in around him. The irony didn't escape him – they'd come here looking for a way to fight back, but were more easily picked off here than Earth.

"Colonel!"

He looked up as Satya slid into position beside him, eyes luminous. "What?" he demanded, fighting to be heard over the shocks going through the ground.

"You should tell me what to do," it said.

"_What_?" he demanded. "What makes you think _I_ know?"

"I agreed to help you. I want to help you. What do you need me to do?"

_(Oh, I literally can't believe this,)_ Jack thought. "Are you strong enough to take that thing out?" he yelled, jamming a finger at the sky.

"No," Satya said. "There's too much energy."

"Well, does this place have any weapons?"

"No."

"Does it have anything that you could _make_ a weapon?"

It stared.

Jack shook his head. A small avalanche of dust and debris fell down around his ears. "Look! All we need is to make that thing stop working. Can we do that? Can anything here _do_ that?" _(It figures,)_ he thought,_ (that I'd get stuck on this damn planet with a glowing alien who has the brain of a six-year-old. This is not how I wanted to die!)_

Somewhere, locked in the entity's brain, was knowledge they _had_ to be able to use. It'd worked the Stargate. It'd stopped Anubis' earlier attack. It'd fixed this entire facility. And now it was staring at him because it didn't know what a weapon was. This was the definition of absurdly unfair.

"Look, Daniel trusts you," Jack yelled. The lights novaed, went out, and spasmed back on. "He believes in you. You're supposed to have this great intuition that can see us out of this. Do you?"

"I don't know–"

"No! Stop that!" _(We have so little time here.)_ "It isn't about knowing something, it's about taking a chance. We didn't know we should come here, and I don't know you can help. But we came, and I'm asking. Get it?" He couldn't tell if it did. "Instinct! Do you know what instinct is?"

"I should take a leap," Satya said.

"Something like that."

"It could be wrong."

"I know that." Debris hailed down on the window outside. Jack steeled himself. "But it might not. Things will be worse if you do nothing."

"I understand," Satya said, and its voice changed. Jack couldn't quite place how – it gained confidence, yes, but there was something more. "The shield," Satya said.

His world hiccuped. "What?"

"The fold shield can be changed," Satya said, never breaking eye contact. "It moves power from the pulsar to the batteries. I can move it back into space. Maybe I could focus it. I could make it a weapon. Maybe the ship would break."

Jack didn't hear any words after "pulsar". He heard the cadence, the competence, the absolute certainty in the value of the gamble. For a moment after she finished he couldn't twist his mind back to the issue at hand.

It wasn't anything she had said. Her scattershot competence impressed but had never surprised him. For a split second some ineffable quality in her report had shone through, something impossible to describe or simply mimic. Something he wouldn't ever have thought of as a mark of identification, something he'd taken for granted – something familiar.

_(Carter.)_

"Risks?" he choked out, trying to keep his mind on the attack.

She threw them at him, mind to mind. The shield could fluctuate, flooding them with radiation. The other safeguards could fail, leaving them exposed. The blast out might be too large, tearing the installation apart. "It's better than inaction."

Jack nodded. "And you?"

She seemed taken aback, but only for a moment. "I'll let go of this form. Noncorporeal, radiation won't hurt me."

"And if it goes off while you're fiddling with it?"

"I could permanently lose cohesion. Is there another choice?"

Maybe it was sick irony that it had taken this long for something undeniably Carter to emerge. Maybe it was no irony at all – the situation had triggered it, and the instant she stopped wondering who she was and let her instincts take over was the instant she regained her identity. Maybe the irony was that in all this time of waiting and watching and hoping and fearing, the instant all his doubts were destroyed came at a moment where there was no time for anything but staying alive. "Do it," he ordered.

She nodded and slid away.

"Major!" he called, and she turned – he thought she turned on instinct. "If you die here again," he yelled, "I'm gonna kill you!"

Her eyes glowed as she stood there, watching with surprise on inscrutable features. Then she turned and ran, fluid and bright down the hall.

Jack felt suddenly, intensely sick as the world lurched and the lights went out for good. This time it wasn't radiation. Still, all he could do was hold on.

Another hit to the outskirts sent the installation shaking, klaxons howling to the beat of the tremors. His radio crackled. _"Jack! Has Satya come by there?"_

Jack hit talk. "Yeah. Yeah, she's been and gone."

Daniel caught the nuance faster than anyone should have. _"Gone? What do you mean, gone?"_

From far away Jack could hear something changing, something shifting, something powering up. "Look out a window," he advised.

Outside, Anubis' ha'tak glowered over the installation, still firing into the outskirts. Debris leapt up over them, raining down like fallout. And he stood under it all, still ordering his people out to die.

_"What did you tell her?"_ Daniel asked, voice suspended. Jack didn't have the words to answer him, staring up instead into the flashing sky.

* * *

Satya arrived in the control room certain for the first time on what she had to do, and absolutely lost on everything else. She ran to the controls, making adjustments as fast as she could.

_(He has no established interest in lying to me. Not about this.)_

She couldn't read the symbols on the panels – didn't know what they were intended to do, what each represented. But she knew how they would change the flow of energy in the banks, configurations so delicate and specific that she couldn't touch them directly.

_(I don't know why he changed his mind.)_

She entered the commands, realizing that, were she faced with the situation again, she should really go to the trouble of synthesizing additional digits and limbs.

_(I can't think about this now.)_

Around her, she could sense the fold shield changing. The space around the installation shifted and twisted, energy humming through the walls. She hit the final sequence – and let go.

The world flashed and fuzzed, threatening to tear her apart as physical cohesion gave way to energetic. As she did the station burst out in minor explosions, then a much greater one – a pulse of energy rivaling any single pulse from the star, which caught her up and sent her soaring through space and matter into the empty sky above.

She spread out, reveling in the power around her, and _turned_, and the blast turned with her. Above, the ship moved to avoid the fire. _(No,)_ she thought wordlessly. Anubis was in there – the damager, the destroyer, the one who even now was trying to kill Daniel, kill the scientist, kill the Colonel. Anubis had to leave, but he wouldn't leave. So Anubis had to cease.

The pulse hit the ship, tearing apart the energy inside, shredding itself on shields and batteries and losing direction in explosions. It travelled in a wave through conduits and bulkheads, a dancing storm through the systems. The ship shuddered and jerked as engines went into death throes, plunging the craft at an angle into the planet's gravity.

Satya raced through the chaos, striking and directing, reveling in choice and chance and effect. And then, like a beacon, like any other pattern, she felt another being on the ship with her.

She'd become used to the luminous fields of the other entities, of the dim, matter-bound flickers of the humans. Anubis was unlike either – a knot of static energy, neither natural nor impossible, angry and powerful. This, then, was the destroyer – the primary cause.

Anubis turned to regard her. And as she blasted at him, full force of her energy aimed at dissipating his, she realized how outclassed she was – his power closed down around her, and for the first time in her memory she felt cold, and heavy, and solid.

Nothingness followed.


	14. Escape

"_Jack_!"

Jack tore himself away from the window in time to see Daniel storming down the stairs toward him, eyes lined in murderous grief. "She's not dead!" he shot before Daniel could launch whatever verbal attack he had planned.

Daniel stopped short, pain and anger written from his feet to his fists. "How can you know that?"

"Because if there was any possible way to survive, Carter would find it," Jack said.

"You–" Daniel began, before the words hit him. "...now you believe me."

Jack looked back out the window, scouring the towers in the distance. "She proved herself."

Daniel looked out at the tower, teeth grit. "So that's what you meant by calling you 'sir.'"

Jack closed his eyes – and snapped. "Will you stop it?" he demanded, wheeling around. "Just – stop!"

Daniel jumped. "Wh–"

"Stop acting like I planned this, like I wanted her to die! I didn't like not knowing, but even if it hadn't been Carter, do you honestly think I would have found a way to kill her off?"

"I didn't–"

"And she is not dead! All right? I don't know where she is, but she is not dead. She did not go through the whole Ascension routine just to die here. So don't – go – looking at me like I set this whole thing up! Like I wanted it to happen!"

Daniel stared. Jack's hands flexed, he took a long, shuddering breath, and turned back to the window. His fingers curled into fists around the railing, white-knuckled.

"She's not dead," he said again.

Daniel didn't know what to say. He'd suspected, hoped, whatever, that she'd been Sam. Memory wiped or not, he'd had her back for the time she'd been on base. But between the time he'd seen Jack last and now, Jack had been reunited with her – and now she was gone again. To Jack, it must have seemed like the work of an instant. And if he knew anything, it was that Jack was the one who'd ordered her off – or, if not ordered, okayed her to go.

Part of Jack's insistence was faith, because if she had survived this far, how could she die on an offchance? Part of it was desperation. When he said she wasn't dead, he meant _I didn't kill her. Not again_.

Daniel approached. Jack wasn't shaking – he'd gone back to full command mode. As far as anyone could tell, he was in control. "What happened?" he asked.

Jack didn't have time to answer. McKay appeared in the doorway, doubling over almost immediately in an attempt to bring himself closer to the air. "There you are!" he said. "Whatever whichever of you did, it worked."

"Didn't do anything," Jack said, turning his back on the window and absently ruffling dust out of his hair. "You all right?"

"Did you know I had to run all the way here?" McKay said. "This place really needs some kind of transit system, or–"

"You could've just called," Jack said.

"Tried that." McKay took in more air than was strictly necessary. "There's a lot of radio interference in the air right now. Probably a result of–" he waved a finger at the sky. "What was that, by the way?"

"Satya," Jack said, cutting him off. "Turned one of the shields into a space gun."

McKay frowned. "How?"

"You'll have to ask her," Jack said. McKay looked around.

"Where–"

"No idea." Jack flicked on his radio. Static came out. "Can you scan for her?"

McKay looked around. "Not from here. Are we staying?"

"Is it safe?"

"Well, for now," McKay said, still trying to catch his breath. "We took a lot of damage to the installation, but it's sealed doors and bulkheads so we're not venting atmosphere from these main areas. But now that Anubis isn't trying to destroy us any more–"

"Good enough." Jack stepped up. "Find her."

"Shouldn't we be trying to–"

"_Find_ her," Jack said again.

McKay stared for a second, but didn't ask. "Fine. I'll be in the sensor diagnostic room if anyone needs me."

"Speaking of Earth," Daniel broke in.

"Right." Jack checked his watch. "Hammond is probably wondering where we've gotten to. I'll call home; you two find Satya."

"Use the MALP's transmitter," McKay suggested on his way out the door. "It may be strong enough to cut through the interference."

"I know," Jack said, turning back to the DHD. He'd almost started dialing when he glanced back again. Daniel was frowning, holding his dosimeter up to the light. Jack stopped so fast that for a moment he stopped breathing. "Daniel?"

Daniel returned the dosimeter to his MOLLE with exaggerated calm. "We got a dose," he said. Jack's dosimeter was up against the lights before Daniel could add "A little one."

The needle had barely moved. Jack told his heart to resume normal operations, and glared at Daniel. "You could've said that part first."

Daniel watched him. "We are so lucky to be alive," he said, as if he wanted Jack to keep it in mind.

_(And we keep getting here the same way.)_ "I know." He hiked a thumb back at the 'gate. "I'm going to tell Hammond."

_And I'm going nowhere_, Daniel answered without saying anything. He walked out into the hall.

* * *

"Unscheduled offworld activation!"

Hammond stepped up to the techs' computers, fighting the urge to order blast doors down. "Who is it?"

"We're receiving a transmission on SG-1's MALP channel," Walter said. "Audio and video."

"Bring it up."

The screens around the control room came on, revealing Colonel O'Neill's face against a cracked and smoking backdrop. Relief at his survival waged a brief but intense war with apprehension at the base's status, ending in an ungainly truce.

"Colonel, what happened over there? We tried to contact you but couldn't establish a connection."

_"Anubis jammed our 'gate,"_ O'Neill said. _"We couldn't dial out, either. And not for lack of trying."_

"Wh – are you all right?"

_"For the moment. Turns out the entity was our ace in the hole after all."_ He shifted, glancing offcamera. _"General, for what it's worth, I think Daniel was right. I think the entity is – was – Carter."_

"Are you sure?" Hammond asked.

_"...no,"_ O'Neill admitted. _"As sure as I can be. Gut instinct. Still no proof, though. Not that it helps us now – we have no idea where she's off to. Haven't seen her since the attack."_

Hammond tried to parse his tone. Wariness, weariness, resignation, anger – few things could impart that mixture to Colonel O'Neill's voice. He knew he'd never get the full story of what had happened there – even the most comprehensive of mission reports couldn't bring him into the reality of things, the immediacy, the true press of circumstances that had prompted whatever actions had occurred. "What's your status now?"

_"Now? We're secure as far as we can tell. Last we saw Anubis' ship was falling out of orbit. McKay thinks it crashed somewhere on the other side of the planet – or, if it recovered, it would have left the system on that side and we wouldn't be able to track it. In any case, we shouldn't leave until we've looked through a few more of these systems."_ His tone changed, dark humor infiltrating. _"This may be the first engagement we've ever had where we managed to kick Anubis' ass, sir. It's worth the risk of staying longer."_

"Understood." He searched for something else to say – to address the Carter dilemma, to make it seem more real or better or – or something. "Colonel, if the entity – or Major Carter – reappears, report in. Regardless, I'd like you to check in hourly."

_"Got it."_ Jack hesitated. _"General, how's Earth holding up?"_

For a moment, the world faded out. His stomach sunk. "We destroyed the al'kesh threatening Earth," he said.

_"And–?"_

"The _Prometheus_ was lost with all hands on board."

The news filtered through the radio, out the MALP, and Jack looked down for half a second. He looked up again, meeting Hammond's eyes through the camera. _"I'm sorry."_

"So are we. But the best we can do now is pursue the avenues available to us."

The Colonel nodded. _"We're working on it. I can check in with McKay, see exactly what happened."_

"Good luck," Hammond said.

O'Neill gave the MALP camera a weak thumbs-up, and cut the feed. A moment later, the wormhole disengaged.

Hammond stepped back. SG-1 was alive. Not everyone had been sent out to die. Not all his teams would join the _Prometheus_ in infamy. For the moment, that was enough.

And if they were right, if Major Carter had survived...

It was a long shot even for SG-1. But SG-1 had a surprisingly good record of making the long shots. It was possible. That was enough, as well.

But this was a long way from over. Carter wasn't back yet. They thought she might be out there somewhere – but the universe was very, very large, and they still had no idea where.

* * *

She opened her eyes to darkness.

Then she blinked, because the sensation of having eyes to open, real eyes, eyes of tissue and fluid, was so foreign, so alien, and yet so instinctively _right_ that she didn't have words to describe it.

Sitting up, she looked around, then down at herself. Along with the eyes came skin, bone, hair – and blood, if the splatter where her cheek had rested was any indication. Nerves, too – she felt pain all up and down her back, could feel the burst bruise on her cheekbone. And she felt cold.

Her first thoughts bypassed words entirely – surges of confusion, bursts of recollection, experience and causality replaying in her mind. She remembered the dynamics of the attack in precise detail, the opposing entity – and the first word to intrude upon her mind was the name, _(Anubis.)_

Before that her memories muted, which frightened her. She could remember every detail, but the intensity had been turned down – she could _remember_ the energy of the pulsar beating around her, the entities of whom she had been one, but she couldn't re-experience it. A flash of panic tore through her, answered by a second – she couldn't remember this fear, this kind of emotion. It was too strong, too implicit. She looked at her hands, turning them over in renewed anxiety. She'd been frozen in static form. Not as tenuous as her own self-imposed analog, not as prone to violent loss of integrity, but immutable. _(Human,)_ came the second word. _(Me. Human.)_

She looked around. She was in a room – a small room, walls and a closed door. Another flash of panic moved through her – she was confined. She couldn't get out. Couldn't go through anything, not as a solid, physical being. She stood unsteadily, first trying to consciously moderate her balance and finally letting instinct take over. She walked the few steps to the door, searching for a device to open it. The facility had used devices. Of course, she'd had the advantage of going through the facility noncorporeal first, mapping out what physical bits produced what energetic changes, mapping out the wiring. She found buttons at the side of the door, tried them all in sequence, and gave up – none of them did anything, and trying all possible sequences, especially without knowing how long the sequences were to be, would take too long.

_(...too long?)_

She paged through her memories – what she'd gleaned from the entities, from Colonel O'Neill, from Daniel, from her conversations with Bregman and McKay. Suddenly, much more was making sense.

"Oh," she said, surprising herself. She tried again. "..._oh_."

_(Sound,)_ she identified. The words came much easier now. _(Sound. Speech.)_ "Language." It should have been much harder to figure out this system of parts – tongue and lips and vocal cords and velum – than to simply produce the modulations directly in the air, but it wasn't. It felt as if she'd always known how. "Identity." She looked at her hands again. "Identity!"

She thought back, before arriving at the SGC as the entity, before waking in the pulsar – and hit nothing. The same sense she'd been trapped within for as long as she could remember – the sense that something should be there, but wasn't.

"...identity," she said again, feeling bitterness imparted somewhere down in her throat. Another set of words floated up from wherever they'd been hiding. "So much for that."

Then she laughed, and had no idea why.

Searching her mind brought up more words, _amusement_ and _hysteria_, neither of which she could put her finger on. She couldn't help feeling that something had gone wrong in whatever had happened to make her like this – that she was experiencing human emotion with only an entity's capacity to understand it. Then she wondered if humans had a greater capacity after all. "That's a question I don't have _time_ for," she said aloud, marveling at the ability to quantify time, to divide it into blocks of minutes and hours and seconds. This was as exhilarating as it was terrifying, and she didn't know how to respond to that.

But at the moment – the _moment_ – the duration ahead of her seemed long and dark and cold. She couldn't leave, and wouldn't know where to go in any case. All she could do was wait.

So she waited.

When Anubis came in she had arranged herself in a huddle, cheek tucked against her knees, arms around her legs to conserve warmth. And, had modesty made more than a subconscious announcement of its presence, it would have served that purpose too. She looked up at her enemy without moving her head – he seemed angry. _(We disabled the most advanced ship he had,)_ she thought.

"Do you have clothing I could wear?" she asked politely.

Anubis snarled. "Thank me instead for not rending you asunder," he growled, the energy behind his mask roiling. "If you help me repair this vessel I may be moved to spare your wretched existence."

She regarded him cooly. The threat didn't have the effect it should have. "If you wanted me dead, you'd have killed me," she said. "And you wouldn't put up with me unless you needed to. You'd only keep me alive if I provided something you couldn't get on your own, so you won't kill me now."

Anubis leaned in. "Do not be so certain," he rumbled. "And do not underestimate my own capacities. You assume that there is something I cannot come to know. This is a dangerous assumption."

"Still," she said, "you can't afford to be here long." _(Duration!)_ "The longer you're gone, the more chance the System Lords will defeat your fleets and steal your technology. You need me to speed things up."

"Then perhaps, if my time is already going to be wasted here, I shall console myself with your torture," Anubis threatened.

She looked at the hem of his cloak, exhaling. "I think that will happen whether I help you or not," she said.

"And you would pass up this opportunity to study the technology of the God, Anubis?" Anubis asked, switching tacks. "For if you help me in repairing this vessel, there is hardly any way I could stop you."

"Then you'd kill me as soon as your ship could fly again," she said. "But either way, I'm not going anywhere without clothing. You might not notice, but your life support is damaged. It's very cold in here."

Anubis let out an exasperated roar, and stormed out of the cell. She closed her eyes and, with nothing else to do, soon slept.

* * *

She woke when a bundle of dark cloth landed against her leg.

She looked up to see Anubis glaring down at her. "Clothing," he snapped.

She turned her attention to the clothes. She recognized them, but not from her own memories – it took her a long time to place it. This was the cloth attire of Anubis' elite troops, black and supple. This particular set was probably too large for her, and furthermore, it was smudged with blood and reeked. She glanced up at Anubis.

"I do not keep clothing for human females aboard my ship," he said. "You will take this or you will go without."

"Okay," she said, unwrapping herself to go through the articles. Half of them she had no idea what to do with. She had the unpleasant feeling that they had been torn from a dead Jaffa somewhere on the ship, and that the bloodspatters might be irradiated. Most of the truly confusing bits were the most bloody – probably undergarments. She carefully put those aside.

Anubis stood in the doorway, watching impatiently as she figured out the trousers, the tunic, and finally the jacket with its wide belt. After some experimentation, she got it into a state where it was tight enough not to fall off, loose enough to move around in and not be too uncomfortable. Then she slipped her bare feet into the sandals, lacing them up around her ankles. It still smelled, and it was clearly made for someone of more girth, but it was more than serviceable. _(At least he provides his slaves with good equipment. This is very well made.)_

"Now," he barked, sweeping a hand toward the door. "Come!"

She straightened up, approaching Anubis. He turned and stalked into the hall, anger apparent in the rhythm of his steps. "Where are we going?" she asked.

"To the engine room, where you will assist me in making this vessel spaceworthy again," Anubis growled.

"We can't do that," she answered. Anubis stopped.

"What?"

"This ship's integrity has been compromised," she explained. "And its engines have been fused. I remember doing it."

Anubis closed the distance more quickly than she expected. It barely occurred to her to duck before one gloved hand caught her across the jaw, unbalancing her and sending her into the wall. His hand felt strange, she thought – not like her own. Colder, more rigid, more knobbed. "If you must forge the crystals anew with zat'n'ktels, you shall remove me from this rock!"

She put a hand to her cheek. At this rate she'd be bruised on both sides. At least that had an agreeable symmetry. "I don't think you have the necessary equipment on this ship to re-forge crystals," she said. "If either of us are going to leave here, we need a smaller, self-contained system. One I couldn't reach."

Anubis considered. "A tel'tak."

"I don't know that word."

Anubis walked past her, close enough for his robes to sweep past her face. His footsteps didn't sound human, either. More like her own, as physical Satya. "Come!"

She stood. "Where are we going?"

"To the tel'tak hangar," Anubis said. "Where you will proof one of my tel'taks against the star."

"I can't do that," she said and ducked when his hand came sweeping around, but failed to anticipate when it came back to close around her throat. Anubis lifted her with unsettling ease – she still thought of herself as solid, massive, heavy – and she realized that she wasn't breathing.

"Do not defy me," Anubis said.

This presented a problem. Speaking required passage of air through the throat, which Anubis wasn't allowing. She shook her head instead.

Anubis dropped her, reacquainting her with gravity again. "I don't know how you proofed this ha'tak," she said. "But those systems have been destroyed. That's why all your Jaffa are dead."

Anubis made a noise she'd never heard a human make. "Then what do you intend to do!"

"There are parts of the universe radiation can't naturally penetrate," she said. "The region through which the Stargate passes is one."

"Subspace," Anubis filled in.

She nodded. "We're protected by the bulk of the planet here," she said. "That's why I'm not dead. So all we have to do is get a craft to enter subspace–"

"Hyperspace."

"Before leaving the planet's shadow."

"Without acceleration," Anubis translated.

"Is acceleration necessary?" She thought back. "Your systems might force it. I don't think it's a physical law."

"Then you can make these adjustments," Anubis said.

She nodded. "I can try."

"Come," he said, and she stepped back on instinct. This time, however, he walked down the hall without attempting to damage her. She followed.

_(Anubis is bad,)_ she thought. _(I shouldn't let him off this planet. But I need to get away. I have to sustain myself and I can't, here.)_

She looked around. There were things that could be used as weapons – they passed the corpses of Jaffa who still held their staff devices, though those were likely burnt out and she had no way of gauging how much force it would take to injure him. For the moment she put physical aggression out of her mind.

Anubis brought her to the tel'tak hangar, and opened the one nearest the outer hatch. "Perform the modifications," he said. "And explain, as you do so."

_(That would give you information. Information is an advantage.)_ She considered. _(Selective misrepresentation of facts.)_ "I'm sorry. My grasp of language atrophied while I was–" She looked down, aiming her gaze through the floor to where the sun might be. "I'm not capable of explaining well yet."

Anubis snarled but said nothing. She pulled out one of the crystal shelves, looking over the components. _(I wish I knew the energy patterns. I can't see anything in these.)_

"This will take a while."

"Work as quickly as you can."

She pulled one crystal out, and the lights flickered. She put it back in again, and slowly set to work.

* * *

She had no conception of hours. She could feel time passing, and she could divide it, but she didn't know what criteria that division should follow – what constituted a second, what a minute felt like. She had the feeling that _a long time_ was relative, but she didn't know what to relate it to, so she didn't know whether or not it took a long time for her to finish. Compared to how long it had taken for Anubis' patience to wear out, it was. Compared to how long it had taken to come up with a plan, it wasn't.

"I think I'm finished now," she said.

Anubis paced back to her. "You think?"

"I need to see how the engines react," she told him. It wasn't exactly a lie. "I'll bring them online."

Anubis followed her to the control seats, and stood behind her. "Well?"

She brought the computer online. _(This would be easier were I not physical.)_ "Everything works like it did before I changed it," she said. "That's good."

"And the modifications?"

"I know how these systems work," she said. "I can read what it tells me. You check the engines when I bring them online."

Anubis pivoted, stalking off to the rear of the craft as she brought the computers up and checked through the systems again. Engines were good, life support good – _(Aha.)_ Airlock and inner door controls also good, bulkheads intact and stable.

She glanced over her shoulder. Anubis had bent to the console, but hadn't yet opened up the drive controls. _(Well, now or never.)_

She disabled artificial gravity, and sealed the door.

Anubis whipped around, not fast enough to stop her. The next thing she heard was him slamming against the hatch, and then a quick scrabble against the console.

_(Now is better.)_

The tel'tak lurched up, and she held onto the seat as well as she could with one hand and both ankles and shins. The rear hatch was still open.

She rolled.

Gravity, realizing that they still hadn't been formally introduced, took the initiative with gusto. She almost slid out of the chair, and had to fight to remain oriented – not upright, because now upright would have her head pointing somewhere at the second seat. She threw her weight against the control, calculating angles and trajectories of fall in the back room. And then she shook the craft until she did slip out of the chair, sliding for the wall.

_(Now. Should go now.)_ She braced herself, re-enabling ship's gravity and scrambling into the seat. If Anubis hadn't been shaken out she was at a loss – she couldn't overpower him, and didn't imagine he would be inconvenienced by a lack of atmosphere. But she had no way of eliminating the risk further, and no way of checking that wouldn't waste time. She brought the engines online, tearing out of the bay as fast as the tel'tak would go.

Radiation was closing around her – the planet's shadow wasn't as large or deep as she'd calculated at first. She hadn't engaged the hyperdrive for fear of taking Anubis with her, but now it had better work. She didn't know that it would.

_(Has to be done.)_

She hit the command.

The ship lurched, the engines whined, and the hull made an unhealthy protest. Then the field engaged and it skipped in a direction no one'd made a word for, out of normal spacetime, careening her blindly forward–

_(It worked!)_

Giddiness eclipsed time and whatever situational awareness she'd acquired. Until she came down, she didn't realize that her plan hadn't included what to do now.

That was a problem.

_(Okay,)_ she thought. _(I need to find people. I need to ask someone what to do and tell them about Anubis. Where can I do that?)_

There was the pulsar planet, of course. But she couldn't approach the planet in this ship, and didn't remember – if she ever knew – the associated symbols. She pulled up the computer's navigation system.

The navigation banks had been synced with the main vessels'. They were more comprehensive than she expected – her experience of travel was through the Stargate and through the empty space between the pulsar and the planet.

High on the list – an artifact of the synchronization was that these had inherited the organization of their parent data – was the targets Anubis had intended to attack. She considered turning past them and finding Earth, but she didn't know how to find a place on Earth to go to. Most of Earth would not be able to help her. A targeted planet meant an enemy of Anubis; one of them had to be friends with her friends, had to help her find them.

_(Tok'ra,)_ she read off. It was a collection of coordinates, really, ranked in what looked like order of probability._ (Tok'ra is good. Anubis knowing about the Tok'ra is not so good. I hope they haven't been destroyed.)_

She picked the closest coordinates. They were high on their sub-list. The ship dropped out of hyperspace to turn, and she was on her way again.

More time passed. It was almost distracting. She sealed and pressurized the back hatch and opened the door – she couldn't hear Anubis, and she'd need to get back there eventually anyway – and checked everything carefully. No Anubis. No malfunctions.

The tel'tak came out of hyperspace in orbit of a small, grey world, and descended into the atmosphere to scan. She held onto the main controller as it moved of its own accord, finally coming to a stop over a nondescript patch of ground.

The ship's ring sensors blipped on, and she swallowed. _(Well, it's now or never. Again. ...I hope this is the Tok'ra base. I hope they recognize me. Or at least that they don't shoot on sight.)_

She set the ship to hover above, and stepped up to the ring mechanism. Hitting the sequence for delayed transport, she stepped onto the platform and took a deep breath.

_(Here goes nothing,)_ she thought, and the world turned to light and warmth–

–depositing her into a cool tunnel tens of metres below ground in the midst of seven Tok'ra brandishing zat'n'ktels. "Tal'bet!" one snapped, almost before she'd reintegrated. "Tal'shak!"

She raised her hands slowly. She felt she should understand what he'd said – part of it, anyway – but his posture and demeanor left little to be interpreted.

"Na'nei," a second said, lowering his weapon. "Tao've'nu! Ta tau'ri juhok." The weapon dropped further. "Kree Selmak jankin!"

The first Tok'ra lowered his weapon and ran down a side tunnel, leaving her surrounded by a slightly smaller contingent of wary, but not immediately belligerent, sentries. She looked around the circle, lowering her hands. She didn't have much to say, and they didn't seem interested in starting a conversation. Besides, whatever grasp of Goa'uld she'd at one point possessed was submerged in the same grey fuzz as the rest of her life.

The standoff lasted for what she guessed was several minutes before it was interrupted by the sound of running footsteps from one of the spur halls.

"Sam?"

She turned. The voice she'd heard had cracked and quavered, and its owner looked as ready to fall apart.

The ring of Tok'ra split, backing off to make room for him. He looked over her, reaching out one hand to take her shoulder. "Am I goin' mad?" he asked.

"I wouldn't assume so," she said.

And before she knew it, she was enveloped in a hug. "They said you were dead," he said against her ear. "God, Sam – what happened? How'd you get out? ...how'd you get _here_?"

"Um," she said meekly.

He released her enough to hold her at arms length, looking over every contour of her face. One of his hands moved up to her cheek. "You're hurt," he said.

"I'm fine," she said, trying to wrest memory from an unwilling mind.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

It came back in bits and pieces – disconnected images, smells, sounds, disembodied emotions removed from context or explanation. Nothing that added up to a certainty, or a memory. Just hints that something was there – ephemeral nuances that vanished when she reached for them. She didn't feel all right. She felt lost, without any indication of how to get home.

"Sam?"

"It's, I – ascended, I think," she said. "Not exactly. But my, ah, memory–"

His face fell, but he schooled the expression quickly. "Of course," he said. "I heard that happened with Daniel." He scrutinized her. "No memory at all?"

"A bit. Not much."

"You don't recognize me," he said.

She felt tears welling, and didn't know why. "I want to."

His face changed. The skin around his eyes bunched up, and his mouth looked like a smile but wasn't. "It's me," he said. "Dad."

_(Dad.)_ The word tugged at her – security and longing and lonely things like stars. _(Father. Similarity. Family. Identity.)_ "Dad," she said, and thought _(Home. I want to go home.)_

Her father pulled her in again, rubbing her back. "Hey," he said. "It'll be okay. I mean, if you can remember something, you can remember the rest, huh?"

"Yeah," she agreed.

"But now, let's get you taken care of," her father said, pulling back to look at her cheek. "...and get you a change of clothes. I don't want to say anything, but–"

"I smell like dead Jaffa," she supplied.

His face wrinkled. "I'm not gonna ask," he said. "We'll get you into some proper Tok'ra clothes. And then we'll get you back to Earth and give Jack a heart attack."

_(Jack? –the Colonel,)_ she pieced together. She remembered him, at least – not just him but being in his mind, taking on his memories as her own. Flecks of knowledge flitted just beyond her reach. She could almost remember. _(Jacob,)_ her mind gave her – her father's name. _(A heart attack means surprise. Because Sam was – she was – I was dead. And now I'm not, any more.)_

"Yeah," she said. "I want to go home."

His face changed again, that not-a-smile reappearing, and his hand didn't move from her shoulder. "Sam," he began, and she could tell he didn't finish the thought. "Let's bring you back."


	15. Reunions

No matter how many times Jack redefined normal, it took half a week before he was re-convinced that he'd never have a normal day again. This particular day would have been strange enough without having Hammond call them back to Earth out of the blue.

Jack came down the ramp with one hand on his rifle, expecting global catastrophe. "What's going on, sir?"

Hammond nodded toward the Stargate. "Jacob called in," he said. "He asked that I recall you. Apparently he has something urgent to discuss with us."

"He wasn't more specific?" Daniel asked.

"No. In fact, he was quite vague," Hammond said. "But he did request SG1's presence, and mention that he was bringing a guest in."

"A guest?"

Hammond shrugged with one hand. "He didn't elaborate."

"Huh," Jack said. "Did you get ahold of Teal'c?"

"No," Hammond said. "According to Bra'tac, he took a contingent of Jaffa warriors and left almost as soon as he arrived."

"No news on his front?" Daniel surmised.

Hammond shook his head.

"Jeez!" Jack looked wounded. "No one talks to us any more. You notice that? Well," he amended, "the Tok'ra never really talk to us."

"And Teal'c does?" Daniel asked.

Jack considered.

Hammond cleared his throat. "Jacob informed us that he would be arriving within the half-hour. That's not enough time for a debriefing, but it may be enough for a shower."

Jack's eyebrows raised. "Is that a suggestion, sir?"

Out of the corner of his eye he could catch Daniel giving him a look three degrees warmer than disparaging. He looked down – his clothing was covered in a fine layer of dust, and if he paid attention even he could smell the ozone coming off the cloth.

"Ah," he said. "Yes. A shower."

Hammond stepped aside, and Jack led his team to the locker room. The usual biohazard bins were standing by the door; it was easier, these days, to collect everything worn offworld than to sort them through the rubric of suspected environmental hazards. He stripped down and stepped into the shower, turning the water on full blast. Then he just stood under the showerhead, letting the dust run off him in dirty rivulets.

It wasn't just the dust that was making his hair grey.

Every once in a while – not often, but sometimes – he got the feeling that he really was getting too old for this, or at least getting too old for the snarls. His patience was wearing out. There was only so much waiting for a resolution he could take – sooner or later he had to be able to write _case closed_ on something, to put it away. It was getting harder to do.

He stepped out, toweled off and was dressed before either of his teammates. Daniel came out second and they stood in the hall without talking.

The Offworld Activation siren sounded before McKay was out, and Jack muttered "Leave him" and headed for the stairs. They made it into the Gateroom as the Iris opened, spilling clean blue light over the floor.

Jacob stepped through, beaming. He made it three steps down the ramp before turning and sweeping one arm back toward the wormhole.

On cue, the second guest arrived, dressed in the same mahogany Tok'ra uniform, but not one of the Tok'ra who usually–

Jack's brain did a fair impression of shorting out.

When it rebooted he was still sure it wasn't working properly, because what he thought he saw was Carter, walking down the ramp and looking neither dead nor ascended. She stopped halfway down, looking around the gateroom with an expression just as confused as Jack felt.

"Sam!"

Daniel's reaction was more immediate than anyone's. About half a second elapsed before he'd crossed the distance between them, enveloping her in a crushing hug.

"Um," she said weakly. Of them all, Daniel seemed to be the only one with an idea of what to do in the situation. She was lost.

"We thought we'd lost you again," he said. His voice said more than his words did, probably because neither of them knew words to fit the sentiment. "_God_, Sam, we missed you."

"I'm sorry," she said. _(I didn't mean to go.)_

"Don't apologize."

"All right." That was familiar – instruction, application. _(You're still going to have to teach me to fit in,)_ she thought, and then wondered why she thought it. _(You were supposed to give me identity.)_

He was still hanging on.

"...are you going to let me go?" Sam asked.

"Hadn't planned on it," Daniel said into her shoulder.

"Okay," she said, turning her head just enough to look at her father. Jacob was trying – and failing – to disguise a smile, and raised both eyebrows expressively. Expressive of what, she couldn't tell. Belatedly, awkwardly, she patted Daniel's shoulder.

"Okay, Daniel, she needs to breathe these days," the Colonel said, unable to chase emotion from his voice. "Let go."

"Yeah," Daniel said, releasing his grip and stepping back. As he did, Sam saw tears in his eyes.

She looked... young, as she saw them. Innocent and awed, surprised, confused. And beautiful. Jacob felt himself fill with pride of a kind he hadn't felt since she was a child. He had her back now.

Jack couldn't stop smiling. He hadn't expected this to hurt – he hadn't expected it, period. But it did, a low ache from a place he couldn't name, like the stretching of bruised muscles or the fatigue of tired limbs; something numb come back to life. "The _unsinkable_ Sam Carter," he pronounced, approaching on the ramp. He took a deep breath before running out of words.

She turned to him, lost as she studied his face. "Colonel," she said – that scrap remained from her time as the entity, as little contact as they'd had.

Jack felt his jaw would split open if he grinned any wider. "Yeah." He couldn't resist. "...c'mere," he said, pulling her into a quick embrace. He clapped her on the back before releasing her, keeping every facet of the act as comradely as possible. "_Very_ well done," he said.

To one side, she could hear Jacob saying something to Daniel – "She lost her memory. Figured it'd come back easier here," – and could hear a quiet noise of assent or understanding. She wished she could share in the sentiment.

She blinked, looking around. Jack glanced back with her – a small crowd had gathered at the blast doors, techs and airmen and scientists. Carter seemed bewildered and more than a little overwhelmed – _(Of course. This is totally outside her experience, at least for the moment. We should probably back off for a bit... but god damn, I don't think anyone is going to! This is a miracle like I didn't think happened.)_

He cleared his throat. "As you can see, we missed you around here," he deflected. "The new guy they saddled us with isn't nearly as nice when we're idiots, and I don't think Siler's defragged the 'gate since you left..."

He trailed off. Noncomprehension was written across Carter's face. "That was Colonel O'Neill's infamous sense of humor," Jacob said, landing a hand on her shoulder. "We'll brief you on it."

Jack shot him a wounded look, and Jacob smiled back. "Yes," Jack deadpanned. "There will be many briefings. On many things."

"But those can wait," Hammond said from behind them. Jack turned – the General had used the time Jack and Daniel had afforded him to compose himself, and was probably the steadiest of them all. Trust him to provide a semblance of normalcy. "For now, let's get you situated." There was a second's pause as the same thought occurred to everyone. "I assume you will be remaining here."

Sam turned to look at her father. Jacob raised both eyebrows. "That's the assumption, much as we'd love to keep her."

Hammond nodded, and turned to SG-1 as if they had routines in place for just such happenings. "Perhaps the two of you would care to escort Major Carter to the infirmary."

Colonel O'Neill took charge, clapping her on the shoulder and leading her down the ramp. "Right. Right this way, Major."

Jacob nodded, giving her a discreet pat on the back and catching Hammond's eye, inclining his head toward the briefing room. Hammond nodded. They had a lot to discuss.

Sam looked around as she was led down the ramp, too lost to make the action subtle. Behind her, she could hear Jacob saying something to Hammond – "I've debriefed her," or what sounded like it. In front of her, the assembled humans said things she couldn't quite hear, some of which she could – "Welcome back," or "Major," or "Mary and Joseph," which she didn't understand. A few stepped closer. A few stepped sideways out of their path.

_(...I'm surrounded,)_ she thought, attaching a name to one anxiety. With the entities she'd never felt hemmed in. It wasn't that they'd kept their distance – they hadn't – but it wasn't the same, for a being of energy. They could pass through one another at will. She'd never, to her memory, been in a place where her movement was so restricted.

Then there was the hodgepodge of physical reactions she couldn't control, even though most of them she could recognize. These were apprehension and anticipation accelerating her heartbeat, and something similar had made her legs unstable. She could feel it, quantify it, but not understand it.

They came to a room she hadn't seen yet, filled with machines whose purpose she couldn't assume. The people inside were dressed differently from the ones outside, for the most part – white cloth, and several of them wore gloves. They walked inside.

Jack cleared his throat, and pitched his voice to carry. "Dr. Fraiser!"

One of them reacted, handing off a folder to another of the white-clad people. "Colonel," she said, turning. "I wasn't expecting to see you back–"

Then she caught a glimpse of who he and Daniel had escorted in.

She dropped her clipboard.

That, Jack thought, was the first time under any circumstance he'd actually seen that happen.

Daniel detached himself from the group to intercept her. Daniel spoke quickly and quietly, Jack caught words like "Came back" and "the same amnesia", and Fraiser nodded, took a breath, and turned back to them with the smile she usually gave to civilians and refugees.

"Welcome home."

* * *

Everything was novel.

She was given yet another set of clothing to change into; then she sat, watching with fascination as Frasier extracted blood from her arm, as she timed her heartbeats, tested eyesight and reactions. There was a complex and unconscious set of behaviors her body obeyed, totally unlike even the solid form of the entities. The mechanics of her biology required neither her attention nor understanding. Fraiser explained things, though not in terms which gave her any implicit understanding – blood pressure and heart rate and genetic scans, though what each one signified, she had no idea.

At length, Dr. Fraiser set aside the instruments and said "Well, so far as I can tell, she's in perfect health. There's no reason to keep her here." She turned a brilliant smile on her. "Though, of course, you're welcome in here any time."

Sam nodded, and examined the adhesive over the blood extraction site on her elbow. After a moment, she looked at Dr. Fraiser. "You knew me?"

Fraiser's smile flickered. "Yeah, I did, Sam. Very well."

Sam studied her face, the curves and contours, the balance of features that served as a visual identifier. She logged it away. "Okay."

Fraiser watched the examination, and reached out to put a hand on her arm. Sam looked down at it, similarly logging the gesture. "If there's anything you need," she said, "don't hesitate to come by, all right?"

Sam looked up at her face again. "Okay," she said again, and her head tilted to one side. She didn't quite know what scope "anything" represented, and might even have asked if the Colonel didn't interrupt that line of thought.

"Trust me, odds are, you'll be back here soon enough," he said. Fraiser gave him an amused look, and he gave her an acknowledging smile right back. _(Hey, at least I didn't say 'too soon'.)_

"Go on," Fraiser said, and then looked to the Colonel. "I'll have the final results on these in a few hours."

Daniel and the Colonel led her out of the infirmary, through halls whose configurations she hadn't paid special attention to, to a door in a line of doors which opened into a room without any notable distinction. "These are your quarters," Colonel O'Neill said. He made an unpleasant noise from his throat. "You're, uh, lucky we hadn't reassigned them yet. We did kinda get rid of your ...stuff."

"You thought I was dead," she said. _Dead_ translated to _lost_ translated to _not present_, so in a way it made sense that nothing of hers should remain here. She thought.

"Oh, believe me," he said, "we would have been glad to think you weren't. It's just that the evidence tended to point to the contrary."

"I understand," she said, walking toward the bed. She looked over the sheets, across the wall. There was a picture of a machine against a wide blue sky with the word _Flight_ printed under it. Daniel and the Colonel were still standing in the doorway, watching her, and giving her no indication of what she was supposed to do. She looked around again. "It's nice."

"Well, it's better than some places I've been stationed," O'Neill agreed. "It's not what it was. We can get back most of the–"

"I don't remember," she said.

Daniel and the Colonel exchanged a glance. "Sorry?" the Colonel said.

"I can't access my memories before becoming one of the pulsar beings," she said. "I don't remember what you're talking about; I don't remember what you're referring to."

The Colonel's expression shifted. It looked like Daniel's had, sometimes, when she'd made an assumption he didn't enjoy. "We know," he said.

She watched him, but he didn't seem to understand. "I don't know the significance of these things," she said.

"Well, in a way, that's what we're trying to establish," Daniel said. "...more or less."

He looked to the Colonel. The Colonel looked at her, then at Daniel, and then Daniel looked at her, as though they were obeying some sort of rhythm entirely internal to them.

"I mean, you know about this base," he said. "What we do here, what we _have_ here. Don't you?"

A flash of annoyance shot through her. She'd just adopted their understanding of duration; it would be aggravating to learn that their concept of continuity had changed. Or that they didn't recognize the importance of continuity in this context. "I remember being here as Satya. I can access those memories. I can't access anything before."

The Colonel's expression changed again, but didn't get better.

"I'm sorry," she said, because it seemed like the thing to say. _(But I don't have control over this.)_

"It's all right," Daniel said. "Hopefully, the more you re-learn, the more you'll also begin to remember."

She thought about that, then used her thumb to press out an itch at the inside corner of one eye. "...there's a qualitative difference between re-learning and remembering," she said. "Isn't there?"

"Well, yes, but we're hoping the one will trigger the other."

She sat down on the bed. The Colonel and Daniel glanced at each other again.

"I have some of your memories," she said, and was sure it wasn't her imagination when the Colonel looked uneasy, at that. "I retained those. And the memories of the entities. Not my own." _(Not Sam Carter's.)_

"Well, they'll come back," the Colonel said, glancing at Daniel. "I mean, that's... what they do."

Daniel looked at him, looked back to her, and swallowed three responses before saying one. "Yeah."

"In the mean time," the Colonel said, preempting the silence that had been about to fall, "all you really need to know is that my name is Jack, not Jim, and O'Neill is spelled with _two_ L's."

Daniel winced so hard his eyes closed. The Colonel smiled, but the expression faltered and disappeared when a few seconds passed without a response. He shifted. Again.

"Small joke."

_(You want her back,)_ she thought, unprompted. _(The person you're talking to. The person you think I am.)_

He turned halfway and gestured to the door. "You want to see your lab?"

* * *

Hammond and Jacob had been discussing strategy for a whole of three minutes before Dr. McKay poked his head into the briefing room, looking as though he was running late for a very important date. "General! I thought SG-1 was required in the Gateroom–?"

Jacob looked him over. "And you are?"

McKay looked _him_ over. "Dr. Rodney McKay, temporarily assigned to SG-1. And you are?"

"General Jacob Carter," Jacob said.

McKay's bearing mutated quickly into something at least marginally resembling respect. "Oh. General." He coughed. "I wanted to say how sorry I was–"

"For what?" Jacob asked, raising both eyebrows innocently.

Hammond cleared his throat and stepped in before Jacob could make things more awkward than they were, a service which Jacob undoubtedly appreciated less than McKay would. "General Carter has been kind enough to escort Major Carter back to us," he said.

McKay looked from General to General, and managed a "Wh–".

"I'm not entirely clear on the details myself," Hammond said, looking to Jacob.

Jacob shrugged. "This is one gift horse I'm not too eager to look in the mouth," he said. "As far as I know she ascended like Daniel did."

"Wh," McKay said again.

"Colonel O'Neill and Dr. Jackson are getting her situated," Hammond said.

"I'm sorry, but that's physically impossible!" McKay burst. "The amount of energy hitting that base would be enough to totally eradicate any trace of recognizable neurological patterns–"

Jacob cleared his throat.

"Not that I'm not glad to hear the news!" McKay backpedalled.

"As far as we know she became one of the energy beings," Hammond said. "Satya, specifically. Something which happened on PV1-542 precipitated her return to human form."

"She attacked Anubis," Jacob said. "She said he – well, descended her, for lack of a better word."

"Oh. So. That's great–" McKay said, still failing to get himself over the _That's impossible_ barrier. "So she'll be returning to duty–?"

"Probably not yet," Jacob said, looking at Hammond. Hammond nodded. "She's suffering from some problems with her memory. I don't think she can remember anything, really."

McKay's face fell.

"Were you friends with her?" Jacob asked.

"We worked together once or twice," McKay answered vaguely. "–wait, did you say she was with Anubis?"

"Anubis descended her," Jacob repeated.

McKay went from unsettled to alarmed in no time flat. "Wait, if she managed to get all the way back here from wherever Anubis is, that means it's only a matter of time before Anubis can, too–"

"Which is what we were just talking about," Jacob said, in a _You're really not the first one to realize this_ tone.

"Oh." McKay nodded. "Well. Go on."

Jacob looked at Hammond. Hammond shrugged with one hand. Jacob looked back at McKay again, and resumed.

"The hok'ha'tak from Anubis' first incursion is still in the Pulsar's kill zone," he said, "but Anubis is in no hurry to get it back. It'd probably be just about as inconvenient for him to scrub it and refit it as it would to make another ship from the ground up. We might be able to deradiate the ship, but that still means we have to get to it."

"And Anubis can enter the system now," McKay pointed out. "If he got off the planet like Major Carter did, then he's going to build more of those ships and he's going to land on the installation and take it over. And that spells _galactic_ badness for us all."

Hammond nodded. "We've been studying the layout of the installation," he said. "Colonel Edwards' team put together a report for me a few hours ago containing a viable option for destroying the base entirely."

McKay gaped. "What, you mean blow it up?"

"If there's no other option," Hammond said. "Four naqahdah-enhanced warheads would wipe all traces of the base from the surface of the planet."

"Oh, typical military thinking," McKay snapped. "If we can't have it–"

"It's that or let its technology fall into the hands of Anubis," Jacob said. "Unless you have a Plan C."

McKay scowled.

Jacob didn't back down. "Do you, Doctor?"

McKay set his jaw and looked up. "How soon do you need one?"

* * *

SGC life was, despite the surrealism of its mission statement, not uniformly exciting or even interesting. They frequently went for days or weeks without anything more spectacular than routine offworld exploration and the minor political bureaucracies of interaction with their scattered allies. Once, in fact, there had been a solid month and a half once when no teams had come in hot, the base had never had an alert, and the medical staff had time to set up a small bacterial-culture lab and its appropriate biohazard safeguards in one of the disused storerooms for fun. It was possible to say that after serving in the SGC one would never be surprised again, but that was overstating the case at best.

Which was why Hammond was, in fact, very surprised when thirteen minutes after Dr. McKay and Jacob had taken their leave, his red phone rang with an urgent summons to the control room.

He arrived to see Colonel O'Neill standing over the controls, frowning over Walter's shoulder. "Colonel?"

"Left Carter with Daniel," he said. "It was getting a bit weird."

Hammond nodded. "What's going on?"

Jack shrugged. "Don't know."

"CAIRN II is tracking an object coming in," Walter said. "They say its configuration matches–" he paused. "General, we're picking up a transmission."

"Put it through."

The speakers overhead cracked to life. _"General Hammond,"_ greeted a cheerful voice.

Hammond couldn't suppress a grin. "Teal'c," he identified. "What's going on?"

_"We have obtained one of Anubis' modified al'kesh,"_ Teal'c said. _"We have brought it here so that its technology may be studied and a weakness found."_

"Is it just me, or is it Christmas day?" Jack wondered aloud.

"Are you able to make an undetected landing?" Hammond asked.

A pause. _"I believe so. This vessel has a number of modifications over standard al'kesh."_

"We're forwarding coordinates to the secure landing field at Peterson. Bring it in. We have quite a briefing for you."

_"Understood."_ The transmission ended. Hammond turned to Jack.

"I expect you'll want to handle this?"

Jack grinned. "Wouldn't miss it, sir."

* * *

The secure landing field at Peterson was a recent addition, initially created to service F-302s which might need to make a landing near Cheyenne Mountain.

The al'kesh wasn't exactly cloaked, but it had some kind of stealth technology. It looked like a reflection moving on its own power through the sky – it rippled and wavered, cool blue showing through its cold black. It made unnervingly little noise as it settled on the landing strip, and its hatch yawned open.

Jack didn't draw up. Teal'c had sent along his IDC to confirm his identity, and he trusted Teal'c implicitly, but instinct said not to get too close to Goa'uld ships of any sort unless necessary. He stood at what he judged to be a minimum safe distance, and waited for Teal'c to step out.

Which he did, flanked by two Jaffa warriors – each of whom looked as self-satisfied as Jack suspected it was possible for Jaffa to look. "One day you're going to tell me how you manage this," Jack called, indicating the ship.

"Luck and intelligence," Teal'c said back, voice carrying without him having to raise it. He drew up, reaching to clasp Jack's hand warmly. "Moye'd is to be honored, not I. It was he who coaxed it to fly."

"It was not so difficult as my friend would have you believe," one of Teal'c's companions said. Jack guessed it was Moye'd, and consigned the name to the corner of his brain reserved for things he should remember but never did. "I expect to speak with your engineers, that we may study the bird at length."

Jack made an _Ah_ expression. "I expect they'll expect to speak with you too," he said, glancing back at the miniature entourage coming to verify landing details. He singled out one – the name was _probably_ Pemberton – and waved him over. "Captain!"

The Captain jogged up, naturally not wearing anything resembling a nametag. _(I should complain to someone,)_ Jack thought. _(It's impossible to keep all these kids straight.)_ "Sir!"

"The Captain will take care of you boys," he said, motioning to Teal'c's escorts. "Teal'c and I have some catching up to do."

Teal'c inclined his head in such a way that it functioned as a farewell, agreement, and a friendly inquisition all at once. _(That has to take talent.)_

"We've got a car waiting," Jack said, waving a hand vaguely back at the humvee. "Come on."

Teal'c fell into step beside him, tucking his hands behind his back, under his cloak.

How fares the Tau'ri?"

"Ups and downs. Mostly downs. We lost _Prometheus_," Jack said, tone sobering. "All hands."

Teal'c nodded, and his eyes darkened. Jack looked over the airfield.

"We went back to the base – PV1-542. Followed Satya there, but that's a long, weird story. Anubis showed up and we actually managed to take out his ha'tak. Barely." His mouth twisted into a dark smile. "Bit of luck, there."

"Indeed," Teal'c said, without any indication that he thought the battle was over. Anubis wouldn't be vanquished that easily. His next question was pointed. "And what of SG-1?"

"Well, among other things..." Jack paused. This was a conversation he'd like to have in a more controlled spot, but time was tight and it was either going to be the tarmac or the car. "It might interest you to know that Daniel and I reached an agreement on the Is-Satya-Sam issue."

"Really," Teal'c said. "What have you decided?"

Jack took a deep breath. This would take a bit of explaining.

"A few... interesting things happened when we went back to '542," he said, and started on the tale.

* * *

Sam's lab had been half- moved-into.

No one had officially taken up residence, but a small contingent of scientists had co-opted most of the free space on the level in order to set up simulations of various sorts. This particular room had been assigned to doctors Lee, Garrett and Carlsen, who were trying – with minimal success – to recreate a self-sustaining field of energy, formally similar to Anubis or the PV1-542 entities, to experiment on.

Sam didn't seem to mind the new configuration, if only because she couldn't remember the old one. After six or seven queries she'd established that Daniel had only the most rudimentary knowledge of the experiments, and had begun to feel her way through the machinery on her own.

Which left Daniel in the uneasy position of chaperone, without much to do aside from watching and making sure nothing blew up. He was almost relieved when the phone rang.

He picked it up before it could provide too much of a distraction, and answered. "Jackson."

_"Daniel,"_ Jack's voice said. _"Teal'c and I just got in. Can I assume you're both down there?"_

Teal'c was back. Teal'c, Jack, himself and Sam. SG-1. He could take a few seconds to marvel at that, stolen in the moments of transit from the Cheyenne Mountain entrance to Sublevel 19. "Yeah, we're in Sam's lab," he said.

_"Right. See you in a few, then."_ Jack hung up.

Daniel turned, setting the receiver back and walking to the lab table. He cleared his throat.

"Period is determined by duration," Sam said. "I understood that there were differences in period, but I never comprehended them."

"Do you now?" Daniel asked.

She looked at him, then back to the screen. "Sort of."

He cleared his throat again, a kind of aural clue that he was switching tracks. "So, Jack and Teal'c are back. They're coming down here."

"Okay." She continued her investigation of the screen.

Daniel exhaled. "So, I'll just," he motioned to the door. "Let you know when they arrive."

She nodded.

He stepped back, heading to the hall and peering out. More than her memory loss, it was the communication barrier that unnerved him. He was talking to Sam, and Satya was talking back.

It didn't take long for Jack and Teal'c to arrive. Teal'c led the way, bowing slightly in greeting as he drew up. "Daniel Jackson," he said. "It is good to see you."

"You too," Daniel said. "Good trip?"

"Very," Teal'c said, and it wasn't hard to read the satisfaction in his voice. "We have obtained one of Anubis' al'kesh. It is being examined as we speak."

"That's good," Daniel said. "Great! And–"

"Colonel O'Neill informed me," Teal'c said, voice full of... something. Emotion kept just beneath the surface of realization. "Samantha Carter–?"

Daniel felt himself swell with.. something. Pride. Camaraderie. _Family_. But beneath that was a subtle weight, a shadow of doubt.

"She came back," he said. "But she's not all here." He motioned to the door. "You're welcome to see her." Not that there was any question of leaving him out, but something needed to be said.

Teal'c nodded, and then, uncharacteristically, hesitated. It was only a moment's pause, nearly unquantifiable, but for anyone familiar with the rhythms of Teal'c's life and movements it was as clear as a pronouncement of uncertainty. Then he stepped through the door.

Sam had been examining a spectrometer with single-minded interest, but she looked up when he entered. Teal'c stopped a scant pace into the lab, and bowed. "Major Carter," he said.

She watched. She didn't get this gesture – it had emotional resonance but was connected to no meaning. "That's what they call me."

He straightened back up. "It is good to see you once again."

"It's good to see you," she said, and looked at Daniel. He was watching for any fleck of recognition. She was watching for hints.

Teal'c's expression barely changed, and she couldn't read how. It was maddening. "You do not recognize me."

"I know who you are," she told him. _(As for everything else, no.)_

"We are your friends," Teal'c said. "We will do everything we can to help you remember."

At that _Daniel_ looked surprised, but he hid it quickly. That prompted another flash of annoyance – no one would lay it out for her. She was fumbling through, and they were watching it happen.

The annoyance faded quickly. "Thank you," she said, because whatever they thought they were doing, they were trying to help. She didn't know what she needed, so it'd be unreasonable to expect that they did.

Teal'c looked at Daniel and the Colonel, a very small smile gracing his features. "If I might have time to discuss matters privately with Major Carter?"

Daniel's expression did a neat turn from surprised to shocked. Then he snapped himself out of it. "Um, yeah, sure. Of course. Sam, I'll be–" he made a hasty gesture in the direction of the halls. "Well. My quarters have my name on them, so–"

"We'll be in touch," Colonel O'Neill said, and steered Daniel away.

Teal'c turned to Carter again. "How have you found your return?"

"I don't know," she said. "I guess I'm still adjusting."

"Do you find it an uncomfortable adjustment?"

"I think it's more uncomfortable for them than for me," she said. "I know one way of interacting with them, and I don't think that's what they expect of me."

"You do not remember being Samantha Carter, but you do remember being the entity, Satya," Teal'c filled in.

She nodded. This was good – a familiar frankness. "That describes it."

"Do you still consider yourself one of the entities?"

She stopped to stare at him. She hadn't considered something from that angle. "...I'm not sure. To identify myself as one of them, I'd have to know what they are. But we – they – didn't. That's what they – _we_ were most invested in finding out."

Teal'c nodded. He seemed satisfied by the answer, even if she wasn't. "Perhaps, then, you were defined by your very lack of definition."

"But that results in a paradox." Sam frowned. "By accepting that as a definition, they lose the ability to identify as that."

"Indeed. Perhaps I should rephrase." He clasped both hands behind his back, straightening up. "Perhaps their definition rests in the fact that they pursue their own identities."

"Maybe it does." She nodded. That felt better, at least, than the paradox. Easier to handle.

"If that is the case, do you consider yourself one of them still?"

"By that definition, I am," she said. "But I want to reclaim my identity as a human."

"I do not believe they should be mutually exclusive," Teal'c said.

"Is it important, then?"

Teal'c raised one eyebrow. "We have previously experienced difficulties in communicating with the entities in the pulsar because we did not fully understand them. You have the fullest understanding I believe it possible to obtain."

"I can communicate with them," she said. "You're right."

"Do you desire to?"

"It can help," she said. "Both of us. They should know what's happened to me." _(I was sent here to gather information about us. This state is information.)_

Teal'c smiled and bowed again. "We should therefore inform General Hammond."

"Is that procedure?"

Teal'c continued to smile. "It serves as such."

"We should do that, then," Sam said.

* * *

Teal'c led her to Hammond's office door, and knocked just below the nameplate. Hammond called "Come in" and Teal'c opened the door, ushering Sam in before him.

Hammond stood from behind his desk, quickly putting aside a folder. "Evening, Teal'c. Major Carter," he said. "How are you settling in?"

_(I don't have a frame of reference!)_ "Well," she said, and found herself amused. _(Selective misrepresentation of facts.)_

"I'm glad to hear it," he said.

A moment passed, and she realized that she was the object of his undivided attention. That happened more frequently now that she was human.

She hesitated. Teal'c stood just behind her and to one side, allowing her to proceed on her own without abandoning her. _(What do I say? What's expected?)_

Hammond glanced to Teal'c. Sam shifted. _(Just say something. Now that you understand time you shouldn't waste it.)_ "I've been told that you don't fully understand Anubis," she said.

Hammond nodded. "There's a lot we don't fully understand about him–"

"He's noncorporeal," she said. "Like the entities in the pulsar. They want to be studied, and if they understood how bad Anubis was, I think they'd help us fight him."

Realization dawned in Hammond's eyes, which was odd, because she didn't think she'd said anything that required a complex understanding. Maybe she was misreading him. "I appreciate the offer," he said, "and I agree that it's a good idea. But perhaps you should take some time to acclimate yourself, first."

_(I want to go home,)_ can the irrational thought. She'd said as much to Jacob – to her father. He'd brought her here.

Of course, there was nothing to say that the base or with the entities would be "home," either.

Come to think of it, she was as unsure of "home"'s identity as she was of her own.

"There isn't much time, if Anubis knows how to leave the planet. Would acclimating myself have any effect on the performance of this mission?" she asked.

Hammond blinked, and his mental gears spun up from zero. He hadn't expected a cross-examination. "I think it would be better for you," he said.

"I don't understand how," she said.

His expression darkened. "Major," he said, "I understand you're eager to resume your duties, but–"

_(Eager? Duties?)_ She didn't quite hear what he said after that. _(That's not right. You've ascribed the wrong motivation. I didn't understand.)_ "General–"

"That's final."

Teal'c's hand landed on her shoulder, and he bowed from the waist. "Thank you, General."

He pulled her out of the office before she had time to bow as well.

They stopped in the hallway, in a small recess created by a stand of pipes. Teal'c was no longer smiling.

"I did something wrong," she surmised.

Teal'c inhaled. "You did not react to General Hammond's decision in the way which was expected."

_(Of course.)_ This was becoming a constant. "What was expected?"

"General Hammond controls this facility," Teal'c said. "Though he is not a dictator, it is wisest to assume that in most situations his word is law."

She slowed, and stopped. "...I didn't understand."

"I believe he realizes this."

She looked up at him. "I'll take some time to acclimate myself," she said. "Understand what I need to."

He nodded. "That would be for the best."

* * *

Daniel stopped by her room later. Her door was ajar, and he pushed it open. She was sitting cross-legged on her bed, in the midst of a mess of folders, papers and small bound materials. "Sam?"

She didn't respond. He cleared his throat.

"Sam?"

She wasn't ignoring him – there was nothing pointed about her silence. She just didn't seem to register him at all.

_(...oh.)_ His stomach dropped, and he shifted uneasily. "Satya?"

She jumped, head snapping up. "Daniel!"

"I was wondering how you were doing," he said. _(I think I just got my answer.)_

She looked down at the papers. "I'm reading manuals," she said.

He stepped inside, closing the door halfway behind him. He couldn't decide whether her response had been an answer or an evasion, and it seemed like a terribly important distinction. "On what?"

"So far? SGC operations. Military etiquette and protocol." She indicated the pile. "I knew all this once."

"Are you remembering it?"

"No. Just remembering I knew it."

He nodded. "So, you can read," he said, trying to lighten the mood.

She didn't get the joke.

"I mean, of all the things you have to remember," he explained, "no one would fault you if an arbitrary system of graphemes wasn't one of them–"

"I know how to read," she said. "Colonel O'Neill knew how to read when I possessed him. I was looking for ways to communicate at that time."

Daniel shifted. "Of all the strange things I've heard in this job," he said, "I have to admit I never expected that one."

She looked up at him, and after a second she smiled. "This situation is unusual, isn't it?"

"Most of the ones we find ourselves in are," he said. "How are you doing with it?"

"I don't know," she said.

"If it helps," he offered, "I went through something similar. I lost my memory."

She nodded, and that information was filed neatly away with everything else she was taking in. "How did you regain it?"

"Honestly, it's still not all back," he said. "I don't know if that's because of what happened or because of our natural propensity to forget. It took time, and I had help."

She nodded. "How long?"

He swallowed. It was a simple question, but it indicated so much. _How long_. Something he'd never been able to explain to Satya, and something Sam needed implicitly. _(Not long, for me. But I was meant to remember.)_ "I'm not sure, exactly."

"Was it hard?"

"Sometimes."

She put the manual aside, looking at her hand. A token, he decided – it was something physical, something which represented manipulations and therefore actions, something to remind herself where and what she was.

"Trust your intuition," he said, and it was the same advice he'd given to Satya and maybe Sam and Satya were the same and maybe they weren't. For the moment it really didn't matter.

She put the manual aside and looked back up at him, waiting for something he couldn't guess.

"You want to go back to the pulsar, don't you?"

"I want to speak with the entities," she said.

_(It makes sense. They've been as much a touchstone of her reality as we have. More, probably.)_ "I'll talk to General Hammond."

She smiled. It looked good on her. "Thanks."

"No problem." He opened the door again, pausing on the threshold. "If you need anything, ask me."

"I will."

He let the silence hang for a few seconds more, and then he left.

* * *

They went back the next day.

Colonel O'Neill came back to her door while she was sleeping – sleep was enough of an adjustment without teaching her about schedules just yet – and rousted her out. "General Hammond approved a mission back to the base," he said. "We leave in two hours."

She had a general idea of what that meant, and nodded. "Two hours."

"Plenty of time for me to refresh you on offworld kit and conduct," he said. "And to grab some breakfast. Come on."

They were stopped four times on the way to the commissary by various personnel – two scientists, an airman and a medical lab technician – with variations on "Major Carter, good to have you back." There was a noticeable ripple in the breakfast crowd when they walked in, punctuated by spots of applause.

"Is this normal?" she asked.

"Trust me, nothing about this is normal," the Colonel said, leading her up to the buffet. "The Commissary is open all day and usually has something out to eat, but full meals are only served at mealtimes," he said. "This would be breakfast, with the usual breakfast foods." He handed her a plate. "Try the waffles."

She lifted one onto her plate, taking cues from the other people in line as to how to arrange and dress it. The Colonel led her to the drinks cart, pouring her a mug.

"Coffee," he said, placing it on her tray. "Daniel practically lives on this stuff."

"And you?" she asked.

"Some days." He waved his own mug. "There's something in here called _caffeine_. It keeps you awake, which is useful when you don't want to sleep."

She had to smile. _(He's inputting data.)_ "Important to know."

"Very." He selected a table near the back wall, placing his tray and motioning her to take a seat. "So, I hear Jacob debriefed you, but I have to ask. What _happened_?"

"What?"

"Between the pulsar planet and now," he said. "You blasted Anubis. Then what?"

"He made me like this again," she said, indicating herself. "I woke up on his ship. All his Jaffa were dead, but we weren't." She stabbed her waffle, tearing a chunk off with the tines of her fork. The Colonel passed her a knife over the table, and she looked it over. _(Ah.)_ "He kept me alive so that I could help him off the planet. We'd crashed on the dark half, so we were safe from most of the radiation, but his ship was broken."

"And you managed to leave him behind," the Colonel said.

"I tricked him. I fixed a tel'tak and jettisoned him from the cargo bay, then I went into hyperspace."

Colonel O'Neill smiled, showing teeth. "Bet he wasn't happy about that."

"I wouldn't expect him to be."

"Most of what we do is dangerous," he said, "and most of it takes quick thinking to get out of."

"It's about taking a chance," she quoted back at him.

He nodded. "Blowing up Anubis' ship was taking a chance, and dumping him on the planet was taking a chance. Those worked out well."

"They didn't turn out wrong," she agreed.

"Keep that in mind," he said. "Because in ten minutes we have an appointment with Sergeants Siler and Reiglen to go over everything you need to know about offworld conduct, and that's going to involve a lot of do's and don't's."

She blinked. _(So the point of that instruction was–?)_

"Take it with a grain of salt," the Colonel said.

"Salt?" She knew enough to know it was an idiomatic expression, but couldn't place what it meant.

"They're guidelines. They bend." He looked at her plate. "Enjoying the waffle?"

"It's interesting," she said. "It's food."

"Trust me, if you think that's good, wait until you've had something that wasn't made on base," he said. "Of the many good points of the SGC, its food is not the best."

She smiled in acknowledgment. _(Humor. I think.)_

"Anyway," he said, jabbing at her plate with a fork. "Eat."

She did, and realized that anticipation was sneaking up on her again. _(We're moving. We're doing.)_ This would be her first mission, or at least the first since she became human again – as an entity she'd remembered events, but as a human she recognized milestones. "It's important, isn't it?"

"What?" Colonel O'Neill asked.

"Going on the mission. Distinct from the mission itself."

He considered. "Yeah," he said at length. "You could say that."

She nodded.

"Eat," he said again. "Big day today."

She finished the meal in silence.

* * *

The PV1-542 base was, as usual, unsettling. This time it was the battle damage: piles of dust had accumulated in corners, hairline cracks had spread through the walls. The air smelled different – a faint whiff of smoke underneath the dust, as if the oxygen-recycling systems were no longer up to par.

Sam looked around the 'gate closet, taking her bearings. She knew implicitly where to go, but as Satya she had dealt with straight lines. It took her a few moments to remember the floorplan. "This way," she said.

The base had changed. Several of the hallways had closed themselves off, sealing breaks and breaches. Seeing it like this – with human senses and human sensibilities – was an odd experience; she noticed the windows that as Satya had been relatively useless; she could hear the hum of energy in the walls but couldn't sense where it went or why.

She stopped in one of the long halls, staring upward. It was odd how the current cocktail of safeguards were so invisible to human senses – it felt as though there was nothing between her and the sun. Facing it felt like looking on the face of something ancient and fundamental, superseding and encompassing her, something powerful and austere–

O'Neill laid a hand on her shoulder. "Carter?"

She blinked, then shook her head. "Sorry. Memory." She wasn't sure why she'd classed it as such, but it felt right. _(Deja vu.)_

Jack glanced up, grimacing at the pulsar. He didn't have to ask what the memory was. To him, the pulsar had become if not an enemy, a weapon – a dangerous one, like a nuke, that could just as easily turn on whoever supposedly controlled it. He didn't trust the star, and if it had been his choice, he wouldn't have brought her back here.

But, while it was obvious she wasn't comfortable here, it was equally obvious that she wanted to be here. And as Teal'c had pointed out, she was the most qualified person to act as ambassador. It drove him mad that there was nothing he could do to protect her – that all the dangers here were so big and so technical that if they were going to kill her, trying to stop them would just get him killed too. And he did not trust this place not to kill her, just like he didn't trust Antarctica not to kill him. "Where are we going?"

She blinked again, jarring herself out of it. "This way."

She led them down a hall, up a spiral ramp, through three sets of doors marked with inscrutable decoration, and into a large circular chamber. This place was large, with a domed ceiling; there were no windows at head-height, but high above a clear ring showed the starscape and flashing sky. The middle of the room was taken up by a tall, clear standing tube with a door in it and panels inside. The center of the floor inside was a raised dais, cords leading into it.

Carter approached it, looking over the panels from outside the clear walls. "We – _they_ – used this to communicate," she explained. "Like I used the Stargate. Secure yourself in something and you can reach out to matter beings."

"Matter beings," the Colonel repeated.

Sam looked over, trying to place the confusion. It took her a moment. _(Of course. They don't think of themselves – ourselves like that. It's a default state.)_ "We're mutually alien," she said. "We don't understand each other."

"But you'd understand more than anyone," Daniel said. "You've seen it from both sides."

_(States. Both states.)_ "They watch this planet," she said. "They listen. It's not inconvenient for them to send someone down. We can call them any time."

She looked at Colonel O'Neill. Daniel did too.

The Colonel inhaled. "You're sure," he said. "Absolutely, positively."

It felt like something was draining inside her, like she was getting smaller and angrier. _(Annoyance. This is what annoyance feels like.)_ "Do we change our minds this much?"

He looked uncomfortable. "Not usually. Go ahead."

She stepped inside.

Most of the panels were readouts or diagnostic screens or preference panels, controlling what kind of a signal to send out and when and for how long. The defaults were good enough. She pressed the button to activate the signal, and stepped back.

The response was almost instantaneous. A speck detached itself from the star above, growing as it approached the planet. It hit the dome and shot down into the tube, turning the walls luminous and opaque.

Sam closed her eyes.

Everything dropped into limbo – a place where nothing was solid, nothing was certain. The entity suffused her, bringing with it the feel of the pulsar, of noncorporeality, of timelessness without identity – things that skirted the edge of her consciousness now, things she couldn't quite forget and couldn't quite remember. It made itself at home, shuffling through her memories, finding the resonance of her thoughts.

_(You were one of us,)_ it realized. _(One of them, then one of us. You were one of us, and you know who you are.)_

_(Know?)_ she asked it. _(I will. I know how to know, I think.)_

_(How?)_ Desire and urgency poured through the word. This was what trillions had waited and wished for.

_(How?)_ She thought back. _(I was this first. I changed when I was here. Involuntary. Not irreversible.)_

The entity rushed into her, sweeping through memories and thoughts and emotions, sending them dancing across her consciousness. She went back and felt herself die – felt herself begin. Even the entity couldn't call everything up, but it pushed the boundaries – it pulled flecks of nuance up from the fog, sharpened them, refined them. _(Process,)_ it said. _(Like gravity. Involuntary. You fell into our well and became us. Did all of us do the same? Were we the same?)_

_(I came to tell you,)_ she said.

_(Thank you.)_ It considered, suffusing her. It was holding on like Daniel had, in its own way. At length, it spoke again. _(Sad for you. You are no longer luminous. Happy for you. Reclamation of identity. Angry for you. Your identity stolen. Curious. Angry. Contemplative. Anubis precedes us. We did not call him here. We watched as he watched us. Watched as he came. We had no access to his mind.)_

Her memories flashed back, converging on the instant of her descension. She felt Anubis close down around her, energy manipulating energy, mind against mind.

_(You did,)_ the entity said.

_(I couldn't read him,)_ she thought back. _(I didn't understand.)_

She felt and didn't feel the seconds pass. The entity moved around her.

_(__**Let us see.**__)_

The entity took her memories, flashing through experiences she could no longer comprehend. She saw – felt – herself on Anubis' ship, felt the instant in which Anubis reached out to crush her to material form. She felt him pass through her, as she'd passed through the Colonel in possessing him, as she'd communicated with Daniel from her perch in the Stargate. And memory passed through with his will – memories she had no access to, locked within that impossible understanding, encoded beyond physical reach.

The entity grew angry.

It formed a white-hot rage, stellar fusion, a slow nova around her. This was anger to tear the world apart. A pulsar's jet. The world shook.

She heard herself make sound. Loud. Wordless. She felt the wall rush at her, followed by the floor – the light coming in through her eyes cycled through every color into colorlessness, taking with it sound and sensation and time. She fell into a state that wasn't dark silence but rather an all-encompassing numbness, like being trapped in the moment between death and Ascension.

Someone was at her side, hand on her shoulder, saying – something. Something to catch her attention. She didn't know where her attention was.

"Carter. _Carter!_ Sam!" Someone was shaking her. She clenched into a tighter ball before pulling her head up, looking at and through.

They'd opened the room, she noticed. They'd moved. When had they moved? How long had she blacked out, pulled in – whatever? She couldn't come back to herself. Unnamable sounds rushed so loud in her ears that she couldn't hear what they were saying. She couldn't speak. She couldn't think.

"Let's get her out of here," O'Neill called back to Teal'c. Suddenly there were hands supporting her, uncurling her limbs, pulling her upward and guiding her to a chair. Someone told her to take deep breaths. Someone else pressed fingers to the side of her neck, cold against the pulsing blood. Her body pulled in without her volition.

"It's – _angry_," she managed, but she couldn't hear her voice. "So – so – _angry._"

"She's in shock," the Colonel said from somewhere far away. She had no idea who he was talking about – everything around her took place in a distant world, one she was barely aware of. "Get her on the ground."

With half a thought she tried to resist, tried to sit up on her own. "I'm all right," she said, or thought she said. Her voice fell into that other world too.

A BDU jacket was laid over her, followed by another. She heard distant echoes of comforting words. Someone rubbed her shoulder, rubbed her back, kept contact. Someone else loosened her boots. _(How many of you are there?)_ she wondered, trying to make the shapes before her eyes make sense again. _(There can't be so many of you. Why is it so crowded? Where's all the air?)_

She realized she was hyperventilating.

She swallowed as a deliberate act of will, screwed her eyes shut. _(Hang on. Have to hang on. Make it stop I can't see can't hear can't feel can't breathe–)_

Splotches coalesced in her vision, resolving into lights and forms. Around her, the world faded into being. She heard her own breath, her own heartbeat – rapid and magnified out of proportion to the world around her. Details intruded on her awareness in random order – the texture of the ground beneath her cheek, tingling in the fingers of her left hand, a wrinkle in her jacket under her torso that pressed up against her rib. She saw Daniel crouched above her, wearing his black T-shirt. It struck her as terribly odd.

She focused on steadying her breathing. "I'm all right," she said, reasserting control over her muscles. "I'm all right," she repeated. She tried to sit up, and Daniel caught her arm as her head spun.

"Sam, maybe you should lie down," he said. "Fraiser's coming. Teal'c went to get her–"

"I'm all right," she said, her free hand moving against the wall until it found the bench. She tried to shake him off, tried to pull herself up. O'Neill appeared at her elbow, helping Daniel position her with her back to the wall.

"What happened?" he asked.

"It didn't mean to. It didn't know–" she said. "It was angry. So angry. I can't–" she felt herself breathing faster, tamped that down. "It didn't attack me. It was just – just anger."

She realized that her hand was twisting in a jacket. It had fallen into her lap; odd, since her own jacket still rested on her shoulders. _(Oh,)_ she realized belatedly. That's where Daniel's jacket had gone.

She forced herself to take stock of the situation, starting from herself and moving outward. She felt cold, still light-headed, still confused – but the fact that she could recognize her own confusion was promising. She had two extra jackets – the Colonel's and Daniel's. She sat across the room from the podium chute, back to a wall, with her teammates crouched next to her. She could hear footsteps in the hall. Fraiser and Teal'c, most likely.

She felt suddenly, intensely nauseous, but nothing came up. She'd never experienced anything like the entity's anger, and never wanted to again. It had been literally worse than dying.

She lost seconds – the next thing she noticed was Fraiser crouched beside her, examining her. "How are you feeling?" she asked.

Sam shook her head, but couldn't find words. _(I have muscles and bones and organs and all of them feel. I don't know what they feel, but every one of them is feeling.)_

"Okay." Fraiser checked her pupils, and for a moment Sam thought the light was pulsing in her eyes. "Can you tell me where you are?"

"PV1-542," she said shakily. "Room 3F-13G."

"That's very good," Fraiser said. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"It looked–" Sam began. "It – Anubis. "His memories–"

"All right," Fraiser said. "Take it easy. Just breathe for me, okay?"

Sam's head kept shaking. It wasn't all right – nothing was all right. The nausea returned in a wash, sweeping over her. She closed her eyes and gulped in air, unable to prevent her arms from pulling in around her torso. They had to know.

"Anubis," she said again, wrestling her thoughts into order. "He went through me when he attacked me. He left something – memories. I couldn't read them. It – it could," she said. "It's just – it's–"

"What is it?" Daniel asked.

She swallowed, fingers tightening over her arms. _(Say it. You know it. Just say it.)_ "They were like us once," she said. "All of them. An entire society. Here, and the rest of the planets. Human, or Ancient, or something – and something happened, something terrible. They couldn't prevent it. They changed, and they couldn't stop changing. Not all at once. Over a long long time. Intermittent, across – across centuries. No one knew what. But he–

"Anubis came. He was... I don't know. Looking for something. They didn't know, they invited him in, and then... then everything changed. Everything and everyone. Like that. And they couldn't go back.

"Thousands of years with their identities stolen, but they don't see time, not like that. For them it was just... a change in state, and from their perspective it couldn't be undone. Generations went through it. People – entities – living their entire lives without any clue of who or what they were. Oh, God," she whispered. "Anubis was here. He was here when it started. He was here."

"...he did this to them," Daniel surmised.

"I don't know," Sam said. "They don't know. But they could see him across space. They could sense him. They watched him come here and they didn't know why." Her voice hardened. "And he watched them. I touched his mind – he touched mine, when he descended me. That entity pulled his memories through me. Anubis watched them for centuries from a distance. When they noticed us come, he took interest again. And he came."

She felt herself shaking. She could feel every facet of the instants from all perspectives: Anubis, watching the tel'taks course toward the planets, sly and smug without regard for the lives he cast away. The entities, watching matter hurl toward matter, uncomprehending. Herself caught below, watching as the shield fell, as the entities above saw the faint glimmer of her presence suddenly disperse. And after that, a span of time they didn't measure, a new mind coalesced beside them. One more in an endless series of victims, an eternal cycle of existence and rebirth. From no perspective could she comprehend the travesty. Of course the entity should be angry – even if Anubis hadn't caused their state, he knew what it meant. He acted to preserve it. Her own anger was slower, more complex, not so all-consuming, but she felt it as deeply.

She pulled the extra jacket tighter around her, trying to stifle the quakes. She'd met the entity's anger with shock and fear. Now those were fading, replaced with a deep sympathetic hatred. "He kept them like this," she said. "All this time. All these years."

"How?" Daniel asked.

She looked up at him, and he pulled back. She could feel the abyss in her eyes – she couldn't guess what she looked like. "By killing anyone who came to undo it."

Now the Colonel understood. Daniel, too. She could see it in their eyes. They had suffered, they had _died_ because they'd been caught in some mindless vendetta whose purpose had run out long ago. This had been before Anubis' exile – it had taken him two weeks to notice, to remember this time, and he might as well have come here out of spite.

They each hated him. The humans for what he'd done recently, the entities for his transgressions long ago. She felt both hatreds. "You have allies, Colonel," she said – she growled the words. "As long as you're after Anubis. You have your allies."


	16. Revisions

Major Davis of the Pentagon had once remarked, in one of his less charitable and more off-duty moments, that the SGC seemed to be an advanced device for turning money and man-hours into policy headaches. Jack was more of the opinion that it turned early mornings and late nights into headaches of all sorts. He was hoping, on this particular late night, for a brief reprieve from that pattern – surely the trip to '542 had paid off whatever karmic debt he'd incurred for _waking up_ that morning – but he wasn't going to bet on it.

Heading for his own quarters through Level 25 should have been relatively safe, but this was the SGC. No activity was "relatively safe". He managed to make it almost to his door before noticing that another door was conspicuously open.

A conspicuous door to be open, too. _(Carter.)_

He changed course, rapping on the door hard enough that it swung open the few inches required for him to stick his head in and clear his throat. "You know," he announced, "that 'sleep' thing is something we humans usually do _every_ night."

Carter looked up from where she was sitting, cross-legged next to her bookcase, and set aside something that probably should have been in her lab and was in more pieces than it was used to being. She stood, though apparently that was just so she could better tilt her head at him. "You're not sleeping."

_(...ah.)_ He considered that. "No," he agreed, at length. "No, I'm not."

He wandered in.

"I mean, I was going to. On my way, in fact. But I noticed the lights here were still on. What's up?"

"I wasn't tired," Carter said.

He waited for an expansion on that – maybe something to do with the eminently fascinating and incomprehensible function of whatever she'd been taking apart – before realizing that _had_ been the explanation. "See, that's dangerous," he said, and caught a quizzical look. "You and Daniel, you tend to get distracted by something, and when next you look up three days have passed and you haven't eaten, slept, or fed your fish. Clocks are usually a little more reliable."

The quizzical look became, if anything, more quizzical. "Do I have a fish?"

He opened his mouth to respond.

"...what _is_ a fish?" Carter asked.

"It's..." Well. That hadn't been the response he'd been aiming for. "It's a little... thing... it swims," he said, trying to illustrate with his hands. "You keep them on your desk to look pretty. Or you keep them out of your pond. Daniel has one. ...well, actually, it's Jonas's, but – my point _is_," he managed, "it's night. Night is a time for sleeping. Ergo... you should sleep." He made a grand gesture toward her bed.

That was, of course, the moment the Offworld Activation siren blared to life.

Carter's head snapped around and she tensed, staring past him down the hall. "Something's happening."

Jack grit his teeth. "Of _course_ something's–"

She bolted out past him.

"Hey!" He took three steps after her, realized she wasn't going to stop or slow down, and pushed himself into a run.

For someone who hadn't had legs until recently, she was fast. Jack caught up with her in the Gate control room, already staring at one of the monitors. The Iris was closed and the monitor held data Jack could only half-read, which a tech helpfully translated as "It's an entity."

Carter jogged for the stairs.

Jack's head snapped up. "Hey! Carter!"

She'd made it into the gateroom before he got down. She was already at the base of the ramp.

"Carter," he called. "Let's take a moment and think this through?"

She hadn't been planning to. She responded with surprise. "It's an entity. One of the Pulsar beings."

"Yes, I heard." He approached, waving a hand at the 'gate. "You don't think your brain's been scrambled enough for the time being?"

She stared. Her eyes changed – they got hard, or they narrowed, or there was something he couldn't identify in them. "We don't have another way to communicate. I'm not afraid to do this."

_(What, not like I was?)_ His hackles raised, but she had a point. She was probably trying to communicate it the only way she knew how. _(I guess you don't remember the days when you had tact.)_ "You're sure."

She nodded.

He waved it off. "Fine. Go."

She nodded and jogged up the ramp. The entity reached out, and Jack had to repress a flinch when it took her. She turned around, the entity staring out of her eyes.

"We went around the planet," it said. "Found the site where our enemy's vessel impacted. He was not there."

Daniel drew up beside him, and Jack jumped. None of this was good for his nerves. _(Do none of you people sleep?)_

"Anubis is gone?" Daniel asked.

"We cannot find him."

"So that's a yes, then?" Jack asked. "Have any idea where he went?"

"No."

"Well, it's safe to assume he's out there somewhere," Daniel said. "Probably rejoined his fleets at the earliest opportunity."

"Which means it's only a matter of time before he's attacking us again," Jack said.

"A matter," the entity repeated. "It will happen in the future."

"–yeah," Jack said. _(Close enough.)_ "So, you guys have a plan?"

"We do not. We await further data. Provide this and we shall determine a means of action. But we are ready to engage him, no matter the cost."

"That's... nice to know," Jack said. "Are you going to check back?"

Carter's head tilted up, and the entity considered. "I will return to my kind. We will count eighty-six thousand rotations of our sun and I will return."

Daniel ducked his mouth behind his hand. Jack didn't get the joke, but figured it would be better to agree than to hope for a coherent explanation. "Eighty-six thousand. Okay."

The entity released Carter, who to all appearances managed it better than he had. She walked back down the ramp as the 'gate spun up, dialing the pulsar planet again. "You taught it time?" Daniel asked.

She shook her head. "They're not equipped to understand it," she said. "But they can count."

"To eighty-six thousand," Jack said.

"Further. That's a very small number to them."

Jack threw up his hands. "I give up! No wonder you turned into one of them."

She stared without comprehension.

He faltered. "I give up," he said again.

"Out of curiosity," Daniel asked, "how long did you buy us?"

"About a day," she said. "Figured at fifteen rotations to the minute, sixty minutes to the hour–"

"Yes, yes," Jack broke in. "Are we going to have a plan in a day?"

Silence around the proverbial table.

"Right. Thinking caps on, people," Jack said. "Give our fine flickering friends something to do when they come back."

He exited the 'gateroom in what looked suspiciously like a huff. Sam stared after him. "Was that 'Colonel O'Neill's infamous sense of humor'?" she asked.

Daniel gave her a look whose meaning she couldn't divine. "You could call it that. What–"

"Something Jacob–" she paused. Daniel's expression flickered. _(I keep making mistakes, don't I?)_ "Something Dad said."

"You'd be briefed on it," Daniel said, putting a hand on her back and steering her toward the door. "Tell you the truth, I don't know how much good a briefing would do you. Jack's sense of humor is something you really _endure_ more than _understand_."

"Any advice?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Get used to it."

"Yeah," she said. _(I guess I'll get used to a lot.)

* * *

_

A call had gone out to Hammond when the entity arrived, but given its apparent lack of interest in sticking around for diplomacy, he hadn't come directly in. Instead he arrived in the morning – still somewhat earlier than he usually started the day, but not excessively so, though the SGC was already bustling. Jack, who'd managed to get some sleep (as he suspected neither Carter nor Daniel had deigned to do), was there to meet him as he cleared the second security checkpoint on Level 11. "Morning, General."

"Colonel," Hammond greeted. "Any new developments?"

"Not since last night, no sir," Jack said. "Probably not _until_ tonight, unless Anubis has something up his sleeve. Whatever else you say about these things–" and Jack could think of a _lot_ to say about the entities, "–they do seem a bit literal-minded."

"I'm strongly considering remaining on base until the situation with these entities and Anubis has been resolved," Hammond admitted. "It seems even odds that we'll have a major development the moment I park in my driveway."

"Well, I've said it before, General," Jack said. "We should just convert the entire galaxy to Mountain Time."

Hammond made a noise of acknowledgement, without actually responding to the joke. Jack cleared his throat.

"Feeling I'm getting is that no one has any plans yet," Jack said. "At least, no one's approached me about anything. Then again, the entity did just zip in, say 'Anubis is gone, but sure, we'll help,' and zip on out again."

Inter-species diplomacy, especially with a species which had neither a concept of diplomacy nor a concept of _time_, was... interesting. To put it one way. "So far as you can speculate, what sort of help are we talking about?" Hammond asked.

"Honestly, sir, I have no idea," Jack said. "Throwing people into walls, turning off 'gates, turning shields into space guns. This is really more Carter's department than mine. Still, given that Carter took down a ha'tak when we were on the planet and she was... you know." He made an "ascended" sort of gesture with one hand.

Hammond nodded. "Then, assuming we can unlock more of this latent potential, these entities could be just the sort of eleventh-hour allies we need. Do you think one might agree to come to act as a liaison, as Major Carter did?"

"No harm in asking, I guess," Jack said, and they rounded a corner. Then he paused. "General..."

Hammond stopped as well, looking back at him. "Hm?"

"I know I'm going to regret asking this, but... it just strikes me as odd that I haven't been ambushed by Bregman recently."

Hammond snorted. "Noticed that, did you?"

"I want to make it clear I'm not complaining."

"I struck a deal with Mr. Bregman," he said. "By turning over details of what exactly we were up against after _Prometheus_, I was able to convince him that now was not a good time. He agreed to postpone all interviews until after the situation with Anubis was resolved, in exchange for allowing him access to film _almost_ anything he wanted. You're still going to have to make an appearance on tape, Jack, but focus on saving the world for now."

Jack gave a thin smile. "You know how to make saving the world sound worth it, sir."

"Presidential orders, Colonel."

"Aren't they always." He stuffed both hands into his pockets. "Maybe if we saved it just enough to, you know, save it, but not quite enough to justify...?"

Hammond was chuckling. Jack held an innocent look for a few moments longer, then gave it up.

"Right. Well, I'm going to see if anyone has anything yet."

"You do that," Hammond said, motioning him off. "I have a few calls to make to places like Area 51."

"Tell the boys 'hi' for me," Jack said, and walked off.

* * *

First stop: Daniel's lab.

Daniel was, to be honest, the least likely person to have come up with any grand strategy for saving the galaxy from Anubis's advance, but Jack wasn't honestly expecting anyone to have come up with anything by six in the morning. Besides, Daniel was also the least likely to give him either a headache or some sort of existential crisis – and that said something, after the last month – and that was always a better way to start the day.

Except that Daniel wasn't there.

Jack wandered in anyway, idly picking up one of the printouts from the P3X-439 tape and frowning at it. It was written in Ancient, and he could sound out something about _exteratoris_ and _trabinae_, but he was fairly certain he'd never known what either of those words meant, time loops and Latin studies notwithstanding. He set it down, picked up a statuette from the nearest shelf, and was interrupted by a noise from the hall.

He turned to see Daniel, hanging just inside the door like a teenager waiting to admit something. Which was a little odd, given that it was his lab, and he was usually slightly less uncertain about discouraging Jack from fiddling with whatever he happened to be fiddling with.

"I was just looking for you," Jack said, setting the statue back.

"I was just..." Daniel started, and then shook his head and abandoned that statement. "Sorry. You need something?"

"Nothing specific. Just checking in." Daniel's expression hadn't much changed, and that was making him curious. "What's up?"

"I was down on Level 19," Daniel said, with a tone that said that was nowhere near the full story. Whatever the story happened to be.

"And... something weird happened?" Jack hazarded.

Daniel tilted his head, in a _not quite right, not wrong either_ gesture. "I needed information on something, so I stopped by McKay's office," he explained.

_(Jeez. Now what did he do?)_ "What did he say?"

Daniel looked surprised. "Huh? He told me what I needed."

_(...what?)_ "So–?"

"So I stopped by _McKay's_ office," Daniel said. "I mean, it's weird. For six years I always headed to Sam's office first. All this time, I kept expecting Sam to be there, off and on. And now she's back. So why aren't things back to normal?"

Jack eased into Daniel's chair. "You know she's not technically back on duty yet."

"That's not the point," Daniel said. "The point is I didn't even think about it."

"Has it occurred to you that things shouldn't be back to normal yet?" Jack asked.

"Why not?"

"If there's one thing I don't want turning normal, it's this," Jack said. "Hell, I get enough grey hairs every time you decease on us, and you've been doing it a lot longer."

Daniel couldn't help a smile. Sam was in her lab, Jack was mangling English, God was in his heaven and, at some level, all was right with the world. Sort of.

"My point is, she was dead for a while. Ascended. Amnesic. Whatever – it wasn't good. And if we're at the point where we can shrug and say 'all in a day's work,' we are in big, _big_ trouble. This should not be routine."

Daniel looked at him, surprised. Jack grimaced.

"Not making sense?"

"Actually, I get it," Daniel said. "And I agree."

Jack straightened himself up. "That's a first."

"That's not true."

Jack inclined his head. "You're disagreeing with me."

"Right." Daniel laughed – it was good to hear. "Sorry."

"So, how's McKay doing?" Jack asked. "Whining about heading back to the planet?"

"Actually, no," Daniel said. "He was heading off to talk to Sam about something. I think he'd be fine with never seeing that place again."

"Well, that makes two of us," Jack said, and eyed Daniel critically. "Three?"

"Only if Anubis is part of the deal."

"It's not exactly a weekend in Minnesota, Daniel."

"Neither is Cheyenne Mountain. And to be fair, the base really hasn't killed anyone yet."

"It gave me pneumonia!"

"Well, if you want to split hairs..."

Jack grabbed one of the pencils from the cup on Daniel's desk, and flipped it directly towards Daniel's chest.

Daniel watched it bounce off his jacket, gave a small smile, and shook his head. "Well, Kovacek has something for me," he said, collecting two or three folders from seemingly random locations around his lab. "I'll catch you later."

He stepped out, and Jack stood from the chair. "Daniel."

Daniel stopped and turned back. "Mm?"

Jack paused for a moment, considering how best to phrase things, and in the end couldn't come up with anything better than "How's she doing?"

Daniel exhaled, and stepped back inside. "I don't know. Adjusting. Confused. You've seen her. Or did something happen last night?"

Jack shrugged. "Just wondering if you had anything to add."

"She had her entire identity revoked," Daniel said. "And then she came back here, and... I don't know. I think I'm hoping that as long as we provide a space for her, she'll remember how to fit into it, sooner or later."

"Well, between the three of us..." Jack started.

"Yeah. Hopefully." Daniel gave half a smile. "–Teal'c doesn't seem bothered by this. You notice that?"

Jack tilted his head. "Hadn't, really. Think he knows something we don't?"

"That seems to be his thing, these days," Daniel said, and shook his head. "Maybe he's just better at this than we are."

Jack snorted. "Wouldn't be difficult."

"Yeah." Daniel tucked the folders under his arm and jammed both hands into his pockets. "Anyway. Kovacek. See you around."

"Don't forget to write," Jack said, with an arch of his eyebrows. Daniel nodded it off, and headed out into the hall.

* * *

Jack probably should have known that going to find Carter after that conversation was a bad idea, but it wouldn't have mattered. Bad idea, good idea, he was responsible for her, and that made it necessary. To his mind, at least.

He found her in her lab with the room's lights off, the only illumination coming from the desk lamp she was sitting beside. Her elbows rested on the desk next to a stack of folders more than a foot deep, and her index finger and thumb dug into her tear ducts, pinching the bridge of her nose. Her teeth were gritted tight.

...well. Not the usual posture he wanted to see people in, when he came to see them. _(So, no sleep on your end then, either.)_

He cleared his throat, knocked against the doorframe, and said "Carter?"

And she jumped. Took her hand away from her face and knocked it into the pile of papers, knocking _them_ into something techy and probably expensive, then scrambled to catch that before it fell off the edge of the table. For a moment she didn't seem to notice him at all, her entire attention eclipsed by the situation in front of her, and when that was set to rights again, she looked back to the door.

"Colonel!" There was a faint shading of deer-in-headlights around the edge of her expression. "I didn't see you there."

He made a disarming gesture. "Didn't mean to startle you," he said. "Just, you know, thought I'd stop by, check in." He didn't ask if she was all right, because that gave her the opportunity to lie – and she would, not out of pride or disrespect but because it was Carter, very Carter, not to admit when things were going wrong. Instead he pulled up a chair, marveling at how odd it was to sit with her at her desk, and looked over the clutter. "What's up?"

Carter swallowed before she answered. "Ah – nothing. Just trying to remember, sir."

_(Aha.)_ He gave a sympathetic wince. "Come up with something bad?"

"Not much of anything, actually," she said, looking to the stack of folders. "I'll think I have something, then it slips away. I mean, I didn't expect it to be easy–"

Jack looked over her. She'd steadied herself, slipped on all the old masks again. "Well, if it helps, it seems like you're remembering to me."

She didn't look at him. "Why do you say that?"

_(Because you caught yourself when I came in the room. Because you've been calling me "sir" or "Colonel" since you came back. Because you're trying to do all this on your own.)_ "You're back to acting like a subordinate," he said. "Tell you the truth, I kinda liked the other way better."

That caught her attention. She fixed him with a stare of such mingled shock and confusion that he was instantly convinced he'd said something wrong. Soon the look turned searching, her eyes moving between his with such intensity that he wanted to look away. He remembered those long minutes when she – still the entity then, still a stranger – had possessed him; it felt as if she could read every facet of his soul.

She looked away then, shaking her head as though to clear it. He looked away too, coughing softly back in his throat.

"Sorry," she said, and neither of them knew what she was apologizing for.

"Don't be," he answered on instinct.

They sat in silence.

"I finished all of my mission reports," she said at length, when her voice was steady. "I still can't remember writing them. I can only remember a few things they talk about. I keep looking at everything I have here, trying to work out what kind of a person that makes me. Who I'm supposed to be."

He laughed, earning himself another piercing look. "That's definitely something you would do," he said. "Analyze." He took a breath, leaning forward over the table. "Carter, I'm going to say something to you that I don't usually have the chance to."

Carter's eyebrows raised.

"I think you're going about this wrong," Jack said. "This isn't a test. You don't need to study for it – we won't dock you points if you get it wrong. You can't get it wrong. Just be yourself, even if you don't know exactly what that means. Hell, who does?"

Carter was quiet.

He lowered his voice. "Sam?"

"What are we?" she asked.

"What?" He fumbled through answers. _Human. Air Force. SGC._ That couldn't be what she was asking.

"How do we relate?" she asked, staring at her hands. "When I was Satya, when Daniel suggested I was Sam Carter, you didn't trust me. I don't like not knowing who I am."

"That's not–" he paused. "–exactly true."

"I don't need precision." She looked up at him, and didn't look away.

_(That makes one of us.)_ He didn't want to answer _I don't know_, but didn't know how else to. "We're friends."

She didn't look satisfied, but she nodded.

_(It's all vague, isn't it?)_ he realized. _(Nothing I could say would tell you.)_ "You'll figure it out."

She looked down. "Yes, sir."

A long moment passed.

Jack cleared his throat. This was not, generally, the sort of conversation he did well in, and if Carter was looking for answers, he might have to send in Daniel instead.

He inspected the cuff of one sleeve.

There wasn't anything on it.

"Listen, if you need anything..."

She nodded absently.

Jack paused, and grimaced. With the entity, literal as it had been, even the simplest meanings had been easy to lose in translation. That was getting better, but it hadn't gone away. "I mean that," he said. "Anything. Coffee, an ear for a couple of hours... directions to the MALP bay in the middle of the night..."

"Identity?" Carter said.

The grimace turned into a wince, and he looked down for a moment. _(Right. The one thing you want, and no one can get it for you.)_ "...I hear there's going to be cake in the cafeteria today," he offered.

She gave him an expression he'd never seen on her, before. Actually, it looked like one of Daniel's. "I think I understood that," she said.

...he didn't. "What?"

She shook her head. "Something Daniel said. It's not important." Her look turned long and level, preternaturally calm. "I don't need anything. Thank you, sir."

_(And I get the feeling you're lying.)_ That, at least, was returning to normal. When were any of them not lying about something? "Hammond was asking about strategic recommendations," he said – at least a change in topics was still something to talk about.

"I've talked to several of the scientists," she said. "They have a lot of questions. I've tried to provide answers."

"Meaning of life stuff?"

Whatever she'd understood earlier, that one passed completely over her head. "Strategic recommendations," she said. "It's still all hypothetical."

"Well, what isn't?" Jack asked, and pushed himself away from the desk. "Keep on it. You'll think of something. You always do."

"That's reassuring," she said, with a very faint smile. "I hope that's true."

"It is," he said, and stood. "You know how to find me...?" _(In case you do need anything,)_ he didn't say. After a point, they were just talking in circles.

Carter nodded, and he headed out.

Instinct told him to look back at the threshold of the door, and he did.

Carter had blocked out his presence entirely, and was thumbing through the stack of files with single-minded focus again. The troubled look was back as though it had never vanished; as though she wasn't quite cognizant of the time it would take him to get away.

_(One step forward, one step back.)_ He stood there for a moment, but there was nothing his mind provided him to say. All he could do was walk away.

McKay was coming down the hall when Jack stepped out into it, and he looked startled to see him. "Colonel!" he called, and glanced toward Carter's lab. "You were just talking with Major Carter?"

Jack had half a second of _How is this your business?_ before he remembered that they worked in the same department. "Yeah."

"She didn't say anything, did she?" McKay asked.

_(What? Anything?)_ "No," he said. "Mostly we just stared at each other. There was a lot of blinking."

McKay started a nod, but traded it out for a confused stare. "Blinking?"

Jack gave him a disparaging look.

McKay shook his head. "Right. Did she mention anything specifically about PV1-542?"

"Nothing of any interest."

"Okay." McKay seemed reassured by that. "Well, we're working on something. Never fear. If we can manage to pull enough of the technology off the base, it might even not be a total wash."

_("Never fear?" "Total wash?")_ Jack's eyebrows hopped. "Good to know."

"We'll need the Tok'ra," McKay said.

He paused. "The Tok'ra?"

"Yes." McKay looked lost. "Tok'ra? The nice Goa'uld?"

"Yes, I know who they are," Jack said. "I don't know why you're dictating policy."

"Trust me," McKay said. He had a manic gleam to his eye that Jack hoped was just the thrill of science. "We are working up such a plan. But we need the Tok'ra, and we need that al'kesh Teal'c brought back."

"You'll have to armwrestle the folks at Area 51 for it," Jack said.

"Oh, believe me, when they hear what we're planning, they won't have any problems," McKay said.

"What _are_ you planning?"

"Something," McKay said, lapsing back into annoyance. "We need the Tok'ra, we need the al'kesh, a dedicated tech retrieval team would be nice, and if you could find some coffee that doesn't taste like it's been scraped off the bottom of one of those military transport things, that'd be good too."

"I'm assuming that's a personal request and not part of your diabolical plan."

McKay looked offended. "It's hardly diabolical."

"Daniel keeps a stash in his office," Jack said. "Ask him." He turned to go, and thought better of it. "And what's with the sneaking around? What are you doing?"

"If I tell you the details of our frankly brilliant plan, you'll start dictating what we can and can't do before we even know if it's possible yet," McKay said. "We'll have a full briefing for you later."

"How much later?"

"When we have it," McKay said. "If you'll excuse me."

Jack threw up his hands. "Go! Fine!"

"Call the Tok'ra," McKay called as Jack headed off down the hall.

"Request it from Hammond," Jack called back, and shook his head. _Scientists.

* * *

_

It wasn't long before one of those scientists was on the move again. Her purpose, however, had little to do with PV1-542, or any of the strategies slowly crystallizing around it.

It was still morning when Sam poked her head into the infirmary, taking her bearings amongst the unfamiliar people and unfamiliar machines. A few of the people glanced her way, but none of them seemed immediately moved to intercept her.

"Sam!"

Except for Janet, apparently, approaching from the far side of the room with an armful of folders. Sam turned to face her, giving a small, uncertain smile by way of greeting. "Are you always in here?"

"Well, it seems like it some days," Janet said, drawing up in front of her. "Technically, I was covering the night shift for Dr. Gerrard. His daughter's been having a horrible night. Appendicitis, most likely. Had to take her in to the hospital. Hammond's given me leave to go home, get some sleep, but it's been a quiet morning, and... you don't have any idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

Sam shook her head.

Fraiser sighed, smiled, and waved it off. "Well, it'll come to you. What can I do for you?"

"You said I could come by if there was anything I needed," Sam said. Janet nodded.

"Of course. What do you need?"

"I don't know," Sam said.

Fraiser blinked, leaving the next few seconds open for elaboration. None came. After those seconds were up, she exhaled, lined up the edges of the folders against her palm, and gestured back through the room. "Why don't you come back to my office?"

"Okay." Sam nodded. It was familiar enough – someone asked her to go somewhere, do something, and she did it. People asked her questions, studied her, and she answered. That was simple. Sometimes it seemed like the only simple thing.

Janet held the door open for her, and she stepped inside, standing awkwardly until Janet shut the door and motioned to a seat. "Why don't you tell me what's on your mind?"

"On my mind," Sam repeated, as though to herself. Then she shrugged, and sat. "A lot of things. Anubis. Colonel O'Neill. Mostly..." She gestured to herself. It was quickly becoming a sort of kinesic touchstone, a gesture to ground herself in the world, though so far not many people had seen her perform it more than once. She herself was barely aware of it. "Me. Sam. Satya."

Janet made a silent _Ah_. "How can I help?"

Sam shrugged one shoulder. "I don't know," she said again. "I guess I was trying to jog my memory. I think I've exhausted the stimuli in my rooms."

Fraiser considered for a moment. Pursed her lips. Then she turned to the cabinet at the back of her office and took a small pot with several flowers which had been resting on top. She turned back, setting them on the desk between them. "These are yours," she said.

Sam reached out to touch them, examining the leaves, the petals, the way the stem vanished into the dirt. "Mine?"

"You kept them in your lab," Fraiser said. "I always assumed that you liked having something alive in there, to break up all the machines. When we thought you'd died, I just... rescued them." She shrugged. "They would have been thrown away, otherwise."

"You preserved them," Sam said. Fraiser smiled.

"That's my job. Preserve life." She leaned forward, taking a closer look at Sam's face. "You know, we used to spend time together. Outside of the SGC. You've got a goddaughter." Sam looked confused, and Fraiser explained. "A girl you brought back from another world," she said. "A long time ago. Her people had all been killed. I've been raising her, but you and Colonel O'Neill have helped. She was really broken up, when you died."

Sam was silent.

"You could see her, if you want," Janet offered. "I'm sure we could find a few minutes, catastrophes notwithstanding."

"Everything was simple in the pulsar," Sam said. "We all had the same questions. We shared the same past, and memories. The scope of our existence was predictable and regular." She shook her head. "Except for the signal, there was no reason to go outside the star."

"Do you miss it?" Janet asked.

"No," Sam said. In that, at least, the answer seemed easy. "It wasn't notable. We knew complexity existed, but we didn't reach it. I don't know that they'd be able to understand. _Godparents_."

The Offworld Activation siren went off.

Sam looked up, then twisted in her chair to look back at the door. "It's hard for me to tell," she said. "Is this a higher frequency?"

"Of 'gate activations?" Janet asked, half-rising from her own chair. "Depends on when you're comparing it to."

"I should–" Sam said, and would even have finished that sentiment if the ringing phone hadn't interrupted her. Janet picked it up.

"Dr. Fraiser."

Sam quirked her head, focusing on the receiver. She couldn't hear much. Janet nodded.

"Yes. ... I can. ... As a matter of fact, Major Carter is here with me. Would you like to–? ... I'll tell her. ... Yes, sir."

She hung up.

"One of the entities just showed up," she said. "It's being taken up to the conference room on Level 19, if you'd like to see it. It's here to answer any questions we might have."

That was a little, rhetorical lie, but neither of them mentioned that: there were classes upon classes of questions the entity was probably yearning to ask, itself, and many more that it couldn't answer, no matter how much it wanted to. Sam stood. "I should go there, then."

"All right." Janet stood up as well, opening the door for her. "It was good to have you stop by."

Sam nodded, picked up the flowerpot, and headed out.

Halfway through the infirmary, she stopped and doubled back. "Cassie," she said.

Fraiser had gone back to her desk, but she looked up.

Sam was standing in the doorway, looking down at the flowers. "Her name is Cassie, isn't it?"

Fraiser felt herself smile. "It is."

Sam watched her for a moment, and a smile ghosted over her own features. "Thanks," she said, and vanished out into the hall.

* * *

It was a day of arrivals.

The entity appeared first, answering Hammond's call over the MALP channels. It wasn't clear whether or not it was the same one who'd visited earlier, but it didn't seem to matter; so long as they were ascended, they seemed almost entirely interchangeable. There were a few quirks that had differentiated Satya, though those might have been chalked up to a pre-revelation society as compared to a post-revelation one, or to Daniel's attempts to socialize her. The entity that came was considerably more brusque.

Jacob Carter and Selmak arrived not long after, and were similarly whisked away to the growing group of eclectic experts on Level 19. And, while the conference room didn't close its doors, very little information intelligible to anyone but those experts filtered out of it.

That didn't stop a slow anticipation from filling the air.

By fifteen hundred the entire base was abuzz, the rumor mills at full output. By sixteen fifty, the conference room's doors had closed, sealing out distraction and sealing in all indication of what was going on. It was eighteen twenty-five before the call went out.

The scientists had something.

* * *

The command staff of the SGC gathered in the briefing room before the hour was out. Carter picked up the remote from the table, unconsciously echoing countless briefings before. It was almost as though things had never changed – except that this time McKay was with her, and Teal'c and Jacob sat at the briefers' end of the table along with an idly rotating glowing form, and things hadn't been routine since Carter had died.

The screen buzzed on, warming up to a video of a very familiar star.

"This is PSR-PV1-542," Carter said, indicating the screen. Jack made himself look at it, watching the steady rotation. It was an act of defiance like looking an enemy in the eye. "A pulsar of about one point six solar masses and a radius of about fifteen kilometres, internal structure unknown due to manipulation."

"We're familiar with it," he said. "What's the plan?"

Carter stood straighter. "We want to blow it up."

Everyone stared.

Jack shook his head, trying to eject surprise from it. "You want to _what_?"

"Obviously, we'll want to get everything we can _off_ the base before we detonate," McKay said. "And obviously this is no one's first choice; we went through a lot of simulations. But it looks like this is our best shot for taking Overdressed And Dramatic out, once and for all."

"At the moment we have two big problems," Sam explained. "We have no weapons that can defeat Anubis' Ancient technology, and we have no weapon that can harm Anubis. We've proven that the entities can, if not destroy Anubis, at least occupy his attention – a service which they're more than willing to provide. They don't like him much." She cleared her throat, not quickly enough to hide her own dislike. "And no matter how advanced Anubis has become, it's highly unlikely that his flagship could withstand the focused energy of an exploding sun as well as several billion entities' assault."

"Could you go back to the part where you want to blow it up?" Daniel asked.

"I'll admit it might be overkill," Sam said, "but we think we shouldn't take any chances."

"Isn't that pulsar inhabited?" O'Neill asked, with a glance to the silent entity. "And might not they take unkindly to us exploding their place of residence?"

Carter smiled darkly, gesturing over. "Actually, sir, it was the entity who suggested it."

O'Neill's eyebrows tried to hide in his hairline. "So when it said 'no matter the cost...'?"

"Yes sir." She nodded. "They really don't like Anubis."

"It's not that we're not impressed," Hammond said, "but how will that help us?"

"We think if we can destroy Anubis' flagship and defeat Anubis himself, we can effectively break his empire's bid for dominance," Sam said. "The other System Lords can and will take care of his fleets."

"They haven't had much luck thus far," Hammond pointed out.

McKay grinned. "They haven't had a full report on the vulnerable systems of Anubis' ships."

"And are they going to?" Jack asked.

"A preliminary analysis of the captured al'kesh has been completed," Teal'c said. "Although the precise specifications of the technology still elude us, we have learned much we will be able to share." He raised one eyebrow. "We have also determined that it is not beyond repair."

"Which is significant," McKay broke in. "_Because_..."

"Because of the shields," Carter picked up. "Analysis of the al'kesh's shields and armor show that with some modification, it can be made to temporarily resist the high levels of radiation around PV1-542."

"How temporarily?" Hammond asked.

"About three minutes," McKay said. "Which is just enough time to warp in and beam onto the hok'ha'tak."

"What good will that do?" Hammond asked. "The ha'tak can't withstand the radiation."

"The entities understand technology," Sam said. "In some ways, better than we do. They can scrub the ship for radiation and augment its shields, so–"

"It's really quite fascinating," McKay interrupted. "A lot of Anubis' early modifications aren't so much a matter of adding new technology as recalibrating and reintegrating what was already there. I'm fairly confident we can bolster the shields enough to keep us safe from over ninety-nine percent of the pulsar's radiation."

Jack looked from physicist to physicist. "That's good."

"Well, it's still not something to spend a few hours in, but yes, that's good," McKay said. "Because it means that we can draw whatever ship Anubis brings in into the pulsar's kill zone. Then it's just a matter of alerting the entities and warping out."

"The entities will detonate the pulsar, destroying Anubis' ship and hopefully killing Anubis," Sam said. "If not, the entities will do what they can to engage him on their own. I think they'll be able to damage him significantly if not destroy him."

"So all we have to do is draw him in," McKay said. "Given that Colonel Edwards has been there without disturbance since we left, Anubis probably learned his lesson about running in anytime the base is occupied, but we think we can lure him in with the transmitter on the planet."

"That's where we come in," Jacob said, standing. "Anubis has been waging a fairly successful bid to hunt down and eliminate Tok'ra cells. We have reason to believe that he's recently broken some of our most secure codes. At the moment, because of our offensive operations, we're more of a priority than Earth is."

His head dipped. When he looked up, Selmak spoke. "Our plan is to stage a series of encoded transmissions from the base to a Tok'ra ship, suggesting that we are to use the planet as the lynchpin in a strategy to strike against Anubis' forces. If Anubis believes that we have reached the point where the planet can be used against him, he will come to deal with the threat."

"And that's when we have him," McKay said.

Hammond leaned back. "Could you run through what exactly you're proposing?"

McKay hesitated for the half-second it took Carter to take the stage again. "Yes, sir. We provide the System Lords with intelligence which will allow them to engage Anubis' advanced fleets – intelligence which, because it focuses on vulnerabilities rather than systems technology, we don't believe will represent any threat to our interests. We send teams to the planet through the 'gate and to the ha'tak on the al'kesh. We use the planet's transmitter to lure Anubis into the system, and draw him into the kill zone by engaging him with the ha'tak. The planetary team will leave via the Stargate and the ha'tak will warp out of the system, alerting the entities to detonate the sun and destroy Anubis and his ship."

"It's really very–" McKay began.

"Simple," Carter said.

"...elegant," McKay finished.

Silence fell around the table.

McKay looked around, grinning more than was probably healthy. "Questions? Comments? Requests for clarification?"

Silence persisted for a few more seconds. Jack cleared his throat. "When can we start?"

"We still need to modify the al'kesh," Carter said, "and give the Tok'ra the information they'll need about the planet's transmitter. We'll also need to contact the entities with the precise details, and start sending out dossiers to any System Lord willing to listen to us. All told, it should take–" she trailed off.

"Two days?" McKay said. "Three at the most."

Everyone looked to Hammond.

Hammond straightened up, laying both hands on the table. "For the first time in quite a while, it appears we have a plan," he said. "Let's see it through. Dismissed!"

* * *

Jack stopped into Carter's lab for no reason whatsoever. "That," he announced, "was awesome."

Carter looked up, and her expression reminded him of dogs his parents had owned. Absolute attention and incomprehension. It threw him. "Colonel?"

"The plan," he said. "Nice, neat, gets the job done. Flashy."

"It'll take some work," Carter said.

"I know. We can pull it off." _(If we can get you back, we can do anything.)_

"Pull it off," she echoed. "We'll do our best. All the principles are sound. We just need to do it."

"Well," he said. She looked up. With a smile, he flourished a _go to it_ and headed for the door.

"Colonel." Her voice stopped him. It was hard and flat – faintly inhuman. He turned quickly.

Carter's head had drooped, and she stared sullenly at a spot just above her desk. Whatever her expression was – disappointment or annoyance or exasperation or pain – it was one of these new ones, the ones he couldn't read. Finally she looked up, and the expression, though muted, was still raw.

"I don't know what you expect of me," she said. "I need you to _tell me_."

He felt ill – a flash of radiation between his lungs, a twisting denaturement. "The plan," he said. "That you planned. You know what to do."

She nodded.

"Do that," he said.

She nodded again, and turned to her work. He stood for a moment longer before stepping away.

The instructions had been so basic. For years, that had been the foundation of their interactions: she knew what to do; he trusted that. The approval was more a courtesy, required on technicality, than a requirement. And now–

And now.

If she'd have broken down, come back as a wreck or a ruin, that would have been hard – but in some ways, it would be easier than this. There were things you could do if you'd fallen down. It was harder to walk on ice, in constant danger of unbalancing, and Carter was walking a knife-edge of being herself or not. They were walking into a place where all of them had to work together, just like SG-1 always had before, and one of them had no idea what that even meant.

_(If we can get you back, we can do anything.)_ That was a problem as much as an assertion. It was still a big "If."

Two hallways down, he ran into Daniel walking along and looking preoccupied with a folder under one arm. Jack cleared his throat. "Where are you headed?"

"I was–" Daniel stopped. His brow furrowed, and he repositioned the folder under his elbow before tilting his head at Jack again. "Actually, nowhere in particular. Why?"

Jack hiked a thumb back the way he'd came. "I'd like you to check in on Carter," he said, and Daniel nodded. Of course, just after Daniel nodded, he looked over with an expression a few shades shrewder than Jack was generally comfortable with.

"Jack, how are _you_ dealing with this?"

Jack caught himself on the corner he was about to turn down, and swung back around. "What do you mean?"

"I was too... you know." Daniel scratched the back of his neck. "Last time. But to have someone you've known well and worked with show up after you thought they were dead, but have no memory of you..."

A silent _Ah_ dawned in Jack's eyes. "Daniel," he said. "Really. It's all right."

"I'm just saying it's got to be difficult," Daniel said.

"Well," Jack said, "you'd know all about that, wouldn't you? You being in the same boat as me."

Daniel gave him an unimpressed look. "Jack."

"I'm fine," Jack said. "Now and forever. ...go see Carter." He jerked his thumb back toward the stairwells, and ducked around the corner before Daniel could ask him again.

_(Right.)_ Daniel gave up; he hadn't really expected that to work. Jack's ability to _not talk_ about things rivaled that of brick walls and some of the less-talkative varieties of tree.

Hopefully Sam hadn't picked that up from him. He headed for her lab.

* * *

SG-1 had more or less lived in each others' SGC labs. All of the SG teams were comfortable with their own members, and most of them became friends as well as teammates – it was difficult not to, given the fires in which those friendships were forged.

SG-1 was closer than most. While their habit of finding new and novel ways of getting into (and out of) peril wasn't the only ting their friendship stood on, it certainly didn't hurt. In various ways, they'd been in each others' minds, in each others' stewardship, in each others' care, in each others' confidence, in each others' memories, and once, however briefly, shuffled around each others' bodies.

Labs were easy territory.

Which made the fact that Daniel paused outside of Sam's lab an occurrence of note, and not a welcome one.

Over the years, Daniel had had time to get used to Jack's at-first-glance inconsistent behavior with regards to his team. It still frustrated him, more than often, and it would be a lie to say he fully understood it, but he knew that when the man actually _showed_ concern, it was a good bet that there was something to be concerned about. He'd been remarkably sanguine about Sam's return, thus far.

He didn't know what he was expecting, nor what he'd be steeling himself against, so after a moment's hesitation, he pushed himself forward into the doorway. Sam was inside, sitting at her desk, frowning at a file.

He stepped inside, and cleared his throat. "You have a moment?"

Sam looked up. "Yes. In more ways than one, actually." She put the file aside on a stack of its peers. "You need something?"

"No." Daniel took another step in. "I mean, I was just on Level 19, and... thought I'd stop by, say hello, you know. You've really been going after those mission reports, haven't you?"

Sam looked toward the pile. "They're good reading," she said. "Colonel O'Neill's especially. He's surprisingly good at telling stories."

"You're not the first to have said that," Daniel said, wandering up to the desk with a small grin. "I believe 'gripping' is the word most people use. Are they doing any good?"

She shook her head. "Not really."

Daniel helped himself to a chair. "Is anything coming back?" he asked. "Anything at all?"

"I remembered..." She trailed off, searching for words. "There was something. An image. Images. Things people said. Things _I _said. There's just no context."

"And context is everything." Daniel exhaled. "Well, context is just the sum of the rest of those details. So if the details are coming back–"

"Then the context will, too. I know. It's just a matter of time."

_(It will happen in the future,)_ Daniel filled in.

"We haven't really be able to sit down and just _talk_," Daniel said, changing the topic for lack of anything to offer on the previous one. "Without showing you around, or getting ready for a mission, or getting you situated, or anything. ...I mean, I suppose we've been asking you how you are and if you're all right, and you've been doing this really specifically socialized thing where you've just been answering in the affirmative and positive, which is... well, actually somewhat diagnostic, I suppose..."

He shook his head, jolting himself out of that tangent and back onto the topic at hand.

"What I'm saying is, you should tell me how you're really doing. You should give me that knowledge."

It took a moment to realize that she was looking at him with amusement. Even after the realization, he wasn't sure he'd read it correctly. "You don't have to talk to me like that," she said. "I can infer."

"Sorry." He nudged his glasses back up on his nose, using the moment to conceal his own reaction. It was a tricky line to find – Sam, Satya, what either one could or couldn't process. "Just thought it might be good to have a bit of redundancy in communication; you know. Though if you wanted to talk about denotation and connotation..."

Sam gave a very small laugh. It faded, however.

"So," Daniel said. "How are you?"

"I don't know," she said. "I have no frame of reference. Not very well for Sam, I guess. But I've never done this before – tried to recover an entire identity of memories." She looked down at her hand. "...I mean, I don't think I have. Have I?"

"No," Daniel said. "Not like this."

She nodded. "So how do you know if you're doing well, in times like these?"

Daniel looked across the wall, across the counters – they were surrounded with implements of science, quantitative measurement, solid data and fact. What she was asking couldn't be apprehended by any of them. "They say that experience is something you don't get until just after you need it," he said, and glanced back to Sam to see if he'd need to explain who _they_ were. Sam just nodded, unhappily. "You gonna be all right?"

"I don't know," she said, and a moment later decided it was the wrong answer. "I mean, I'm sure I will be."

Daniel shifted. "If you need anything–"

"I know. Thanks." She looked up. "I'll be okay."

Daniel still hesitated. Sam reached out without thinking, extending one hand toward his forehead – then stopped, frowned, and dropped it again. _(What was I doing?)_ she wondered. It had been a vestigial gesture, left over from her time as Satya and impossible to translate. Daniel looked confused, expression edging toward concern.

"I'll be okay," she repeated, with more force because she couldn't muster more certainty. _(This is who I am. This is who I was supposed to be.)_

"Sam, no one–" He cut himself off. "You're doing fine. It's difficult. We understand that, even if we don't seem to. And we're here to help."

"I know." Her voice was cool and final. "You don't know how, so you just _do_ without understanding. It's a gamble. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it makes things worse." She exhaled. "And that's okay because it's the only option we have."

* * *

Daniel found Jack in one of the general-use offices, reviewing something – probably the mission proposals. Reading up on the escape routes, probably. It was a risk, and that was what they did. That was always what they did.

He didn't bother to announce his presence past "She's really not back, is she?"

Jack looked up. Daniel was lingering in the doorway, and he looked like Daniel – like the Daniel of two days ago, like the Daniel of two months ago, like the Daniel before Kelowna and the Daniel of Abydos. "Carter?" he asked. Daniel nodded, and Jack thought _(No, she's not)._ But Daniel knew that – Daniel, who'd thought she was back when she was Satya. He wasn't looking for the truth, he was looking for reassurance, so Jack said "She will be." For an instant, he wanted to ask _Aren't you?_

Daniel nodded, and didn't walk away. He wanted to say something, but didn't know how. Something along the lines of _I'm worried for her_ or _I missed her_ or _I miss her_, but he couldn't support any of the statements. "How did you know?" he asked instead.

"What?"

"How did you know she was Sam? You said that even if Satya was exactly like her–"

"She wouldn't be, I know." Jack looked to the wall. A quiet smile tugged up one edge of his mouth. There was a line to be drawn, something about the difference between _being exactly like_ and just _being_, but he couldn't put it to words, and it wasn't a real answer, anyway. "Intuition. Assumption."

Daniel smiled softly in response. "Yeah." He wandered in, looking at the folder. "What're you reading?"

"Final revision on the orders," Jack said, flourishing the cover. "You haven't gotten yours?"

"Haven't checked. How are they?"

"Reads like we're putting on a play," Jack said. "Complicated."

"Curse of Anubis," Daniel said. "Everything about him is."

Jack looked up. "You and Teal'c are on the al'kesh as Carter's backup. You get to get the ha'tak up and running, just in case the entities don't put everything back where they found it."

Daniel looked as surprised as Jack had. "You're not coming?"

"I'm meeting Jacob on the base; he's bringing the ciphers. We'll be chatting with Malek and some guy called Letoc, trying to piss off Anubis. This is my job description. I annoy Goa'uld."

"We'll be in contact?" Daniel asked.

"I hope not. Radio silence unless things go wrong." He shook his head. "As soon as Anubis shows up, Jacob and I evacuate. You pull him into orbit and then warp out as fast as you can. The entities will use your exit as their signal."

"And it's just five of us?" Daniel asked. "That's it?"

"The fewer, the better," he said. _(Fewer to die if and when things go wrong.)_ "The only reason you're going is because Anubis used Ancient on his ships."

Daniel stuck both hands in his pockets. "Worried?"

Jack tossed the folder back onto the desk. "It's a good plan," he said. "Risky, but solid. Seems like it could work."

Daniel arched his eyebrows. "And?"

"Well, things haven't really been _working_ for us, have they?"

Daniel shrugged. "So maybe we're in for some good luck."

"Maybe."

* * *

There came a point, after everything which could be said and done was said and done, when the only things left were _Godspeed_ and _Good luck_. It was one of the parts of SGC life that had become almost ritualized, and Jack O'Neill counted on its happening.

He just usually expected it to happen a little closer to mission start.

Hammond found _him_, which was unusual. He was at his locker, pulling on a civilian jacket, and was interrupted by a "Jack." from the door. And there Hammond stood, framed by the flat light from the hall.

"General," Jack said. "You're staying on-base tonight?"

Hammond nodded. "Just as a precaution."

_(Ah.)_ "Well, with your blessing, sir, I'm going to head home," Jack said. "Just one of those things I like to do, in the days leading up to mortal peril."

Hammond nodded, and made a granting gesture toward the elevators. It wasn't a dismissal, though, and after a moment, he spoke.

"It's no secret that SG-1 is the best we have," he said. "But given everything that's occurred, I have to ask. Are you certain your team is up to this?"

There was, Jack thought, slightly more to that question than met the eye. Or ear, as the case might be. Hammond had made the decision before sending out the mission orders; asking about the competence of the team assigned was best done before that. He might have been looking for reassurance – but Jack didn't believe that. Or he might have been looking to see if he needed to offer reassurance, which Jack believed slightly more. He gave a dark smile.

"General," he said. "You don't think that just because the fate of the galaxy lies in the balance, one of us is suffering almost total amnesia, and the rest of us still have no _clue_ how to deal with her means that we're not fit for an incredibly delicate, dangerous and dare I say _critical_ mission, do you?"

Hammond looked like he was beginning to regret asking. Jack's smile faded.

"I know what's at stake, sir," he said. "And I know why you're concerned. Under any other circumstances, I'd say you were wise to be. But I know for a fact that if you asked Daniel or Teal'c, they'd say 'this is what we do.' And... probably some other, confident things." Or at least things underscoring the inescapable necessity. It was _like_ confidence, in the SGC.

Hammond nodded. "And Major Carter?"

Jack showed one hand. "At the moment, to her, this is all she's ever done," he said. "And despite everything that's happened – or, hell, _because_ of everything that's happened – she's still the best we've got. Yes, sir, I'd say we're up to this. We're more than up to this."

Because this was the culmination of all the blows against the SGC: the attacks, setbacks, losses. The people under his command in SG-1 were the ones to carry the legacy of Abydos, of Revanna, of Tollanna, of the asteroid sent to finish them off and the Stargate-destroying weapon that almost did. And they carried the legacy of PV1-542, and the ancient rage of the entities in its star. It was only right and natural that they should see it finished, if this was where and how the last battle would take place.

"We're gonna kick _ass_."


	17. Fury

Zero Hour came about at 04:35 on a partly-cloudy Wednesday, as the al'kesh – staffed by Carter, Daniel and Teal'c – lifted off from the secure launchpad at Peterson Air Force Base with an ETA to the ha'tak of 19:30. That meant almost fifteen hours hurtling through the vast silence of space, with Earth nothing but a speck, ever smaller, falling behind them. With the distance came a strange unreal cast to the urgency of their mission. It was one more abstraction in a universe of abstractions, through which their lone ship moved and contained them.

In that enormity, even the massive hok'ha'tak seemed petulant and small when they dropped out of hyperspace before it. In the vacuum, with no reference against its size, it too was a meager bulwark against the space it found itself in.

Its original crew had learned that lesson both briefly and finally.

They docked and stepped aboard with weapons ready. Nothing jumped out at them. Still, the atmosphere didn't put them at ease as they moved through; if anything, the lack of life was a constant tension in the atmosphere, with the flickering lights, odd creaks and echoes rendering the ship something still not entirely dead.

Besides, if there was ever a candidate for a ship being haunted, Daniel suspected, it would be this one.

"You know," he said, a few halls in, "I did read the mission report on the ship Thor took over."

The implication missed both of his friends. "So did I," Sam said.

"Did we ask the entities to confirm that there weren't any Jaffa still on the ship? I mean, Anubis' elite troops..."

Sam shook her head. "They wouldn't survive the radiation any more than the ones on Anubis' second ship did."

Daniel shrugged. "Well, as I recall, no one thought they could survive in a condition where they emitted no readable life signs."

"They were hit by the same type of radiation pulse that killed me," Sam said. "That's beyond biologically-based survival mechanisms. If they were to survive, they would have ascended."

Daniel's forward momentum ran out, and he stopped. "...okay. Wait a minute."

Sam and Teal'c stopped a few steps ahead of him, turning back. "Daniel?"

"The whole crew of this ha'tak could have ascended," Daniel said.

Sam and Teal'c exchanged glances, and Teal'c nodded back at him. "It is possible."

"Probable," Sam corrected.

"Then they're probably among the entities we're relying on to blow the pulsar."

Teal'c nodded again. "They would most likely be."

Daniel looked from one of them to the other. Teal'c was always alien in his expressions, responses – it was a familiar alienness, by now. But he could usually rely on Sam to _comprehend_ why he was bothered by something, even if she wasn't bothered, herself. "That doesn't concern you, a bit?"

"If they have been ascended," Teal'c said, "then their experience of the world is still, at this moment, the entities'. Should they regain their own forms, they will be unable to remember their previous lives in servitude to Anubis."

"Well, the Jaffa, maybe," Daniel said. "But for the symbiotes, the memory is genetic. And if they descend separately from the Jaffa..."

Teal'c made a noise somewhere below the back of his throat. "They will all die," he agreed.

Daniel stared. "Doesn't that bother you?"

"They were, in effect, already dead," Teal'c answered.

"Yeah, but–"

"All Jaffa understand that they are bred to be casualties of war," Teal'c said. "Some may find a way to survive. For those who do not, I am content that they will die free."

"I guess that's one way to look at it," Daniel said. It wasn't a way he was particularly happy with, but there wasn't much he could do about that now.

Teal'c turned and continued on his way. Sam followed, and after a moment, Daniel did, too. They went in silence until they came to the engine room.

Daniel and Teal'c were the ones to take up position on either side of the door, weapons ready to scope the chamber. Sam keyed in the usual door code and, when that proved incorrect, pried the cover off the controls and set to work inside them.

"It seems like we end up in these situations a lot," Daniel said, apropos of nothing.

Teal'c glanced over at him, with an inquisitive tilt to one eyebrow.

Daniel returned the glance, though not the eyebrow, and focused back on the door again. "You know. Running through one of Anubis' ships, trying to pull off something complicated and a little crazy, right after someone comes back from being ascended. I mean, granted, two times isn't that large a sample size, but given the improbability of _that confluence_ of events–"

The door slid open.

Daniel shut his mouth on the last of his words, and followed Teal'c inside.

The room was massive. Columns rose from floor to ceiling, bristling with crystal banks and jagged bits of metal where the banks had overloaded and blown out. Residual ash and dust tinted the air, though most of it had settled; the floor was a uniform charcoal grey.

Nothing moved. Many of the crystal banks were glowing – courtesy of the entities, Daniel guessed. A low hum underlaid the air.

Daniel let out a breath, and lowered his rifle. "I think we're good."

Teal'c brought his staff weapon back to neutral, resting it against his shoulder. "It was always unlikely that we would find survivors."

Daniel shrugged. "Yeah, but everything about Anubis is unlikely. I mean, he is kinda the Goa'uld who conquered half the galaxy by not doing what anyone expected of him."

Sam said nothing. She headed for the main engine core.

Dnaiel followed, picking his way around a bit of blown-off casing, and paused to nudge it with his foot. Under the settled soot was a familiar pattern.

"Hello," he said, crouching down to brush away some of the detritus. "Rings."

Sam turned to look down at them. "Significant?"

"Well, I've never known a Goa'uld to keep their rings this close to their ship's vital systems," Daniel said, and looked up at the damaged engine core. "Maybe he had a lot of engineers coming and going."

"Maybe," Sam said, following Daniel's gaze up. "It looks like it would take a lot of work."

"This was the first ship of its advanced class," Teal'c said. "Made to exploit the power of the Goa'uld Eye artifacts."

Sam walked across the rings and brushed one of the control symbols for a crystal bank. It slid obligingly open.

Teal'c crossed to her.

"Patterns and states," she said, apparently to herself.

Teal'c touched one of the crystals, rotating it in its dock and setting it to rights again. "I cannot determine what, precisely, the entities have altered."

"The potential of this ship's shields weren't boosted by re-ordering the crystals. The energy inside them had to be re-initialized and reconfigured." She looked across at Daniel. "They couldn't enact their own potential until their form was altered."

Teal'c's mouth betrayed an extremely small smile. "Ironic," he agreed.

Daniel shook his head. While he wasn't exactly uncomfortable in conversations which veered suddenly to metaphor, aboard ha'taks about to be engaged by the enemy weren't his preferred places to have them. "So. What now?"

"Teal'c should make sure that the engines are running," Sam said. "I want to examine these shield crystals."

"Right." Daniel clasped his hands together. "Anything for me to do?"

"There is not," Teal'c said, brushing past him to the core. Daniel watched him go by.

"...all right, then."

Teal'c opened one of the banks, and frowned. "Major Carter."

Sam turned her back on the rings and came up to him. "What is it?"

Teal'c tapped a finger against a blue crystal, still frowning. Sam pulled a sensor out of her vest, attaching two small clips to the crystal's dock and turning on the display.

"Yeah; I see what you mean," she said. She disconnected the sensor, opened every bank from eye height to the bottom of the column, and knelt down. "...that's bad."

"Sam?" Daniel asked. "What's wrong?"

She looked up at him, then pulled a crystal entirely out of its port to examine it. "The hyperspace engines," she said, indicating the bank she was working on. "They're the most fragile and volatile systems on a ha'tak like this, aside from Anubis' experimental weapon."

_(Uh-oh.)_ "What does that mean?"

"They've soaked up a lot of radiation – they're flooded. They'll work, but only for short jumps, and they'll be prone to interruption."

"Interruption?" Daniel asked.

"If we're taking fire, if any of our other systems explode, we might not make it all the way into hyperspace," Sam clarified. "In which case the jump will abort."

"Leaving us here," Daniel said.

Sam nodded.

"And there no way to drain the engines," Teal'c hazarded.

Sam shrugged. "The entities scrubbed them as well as they could. A full diagnostic might tell us exactly what's wrong and how to fix it, but it'd mean taking the engines down for too long." She pulled out another shelf, looking at its crystals. "I'm going to try to make our jump faster. That'll decrease the likelihood of interruption."

Teal'c nodded. "How may I assist?"

She pointed to another pylon. "I need you to disable every safeguard the hyperdrive has except for the ones that control energy regulation."

"Is that wise?" Daniel asked.

"Probably not. Is being bait?"

"Point taken. How can I help?"

She pointed to the nearest intact terminal. "There's something called a build configuration you should be able to access. It displays exactly how the engines are configured to function. Keep an eye on it, and if you see any errors cropping up tell us."

"Can do."

"How much time do we have?" she asked.

Daniel checked his watch. "Until Phase Three?" he asked. "An hour, maybe more, maybe less. Is that enough?"

"I honestly have no idea," Sam said, and set to work.

* * *

Jack inhaled as he stepped through the Stargate, into the dust and recycled air of his least-favorite alien installation. The Gatecloset was busy this time, crowded with a few last FREDs piled high with retrieved technology, and with SG-11 gearing up to go.

_(Lucky.)_

A pair of Lieutenants straightened up from fixing what looked like a terminal onto the back of a FRED, and he motioned them back to at-ease and stepped through the doorway. "Edwards."

Edwards was overseeing the securement of the last few alien devices, and looked up when Jack hailed him. "Look what the cat dragged in," he said, leaving it to his team and approaching. "I've gotta say, Colonel. You do have a knack for picking the short straws."

"Yeah," Jack agreed. "You just about finished up here?"

"Just about," Edwards said. "The place is all yours."

"I was afraid you'd say that."

Edwards snorted. "I hear ya. It's a great lab, but I wouldn't want to live here." He looked around. "We've taken as much as we can. Computers, machines, data. Shame we won't ever be able to come back, but I can't say I'm sad to see it go."

"I know the feeling," Jack said. The place might be advanced far beyond them, but it was also more trouble than it was worth.

"Listen, Colonel," Edwards said, "if Anubis jams the 'gate again, there's a green crystal in the base of the DHD. If you pull it out you might be able to get through."

"Excuse me?" Jack said. He didn't want to think about another jammed 'gate, but this would have been useful information to know.

"Capt. Lytton reorganized it a bit," Edwards said. "That has all the dialing protocols, and it's what Anubis jammed the last time. Ask him about it."

A brown-haired Captain detached himself from the detail loading the FRED and hopped over. "Sir," he said. "The protocols tell the Stargate, among other things, how to interpret the six primary symbols based on the order they're input. It's what lets you have two planets share the same six symbols in different orders without the system getting confused–"

"I don't need to know how it works, Captain, I need to know what it does."

Lytton nodded. "The idea is that removing the protocols will force a connection no matter what, unless the target 'gate is blocked or in use," he said. "Overrides errors, goes through suns or gravity distortions, makes connections without sufficient energy to sustain them. But I couldn't selectively isolate those protocols; you'll have to remove them all at once. If you remove the ordering protocol, there's the possibility that you'll wind up at a planet with a Stargate address only similar to the one you dialed."

"Oh, good," Jack said.

"You have a better chance surviving that than surviving a sun blowing up in your face," Edwards said. "It'll break the jamming signal."

Lytton dropped down, loosening and removing a panel on the base of the DHD. Sure enough, there was a single, glowing green crystal. "This one, sir. Just rip it out if you need to."

"Let's hope I don't need to," he said.

Edwards looked back over his team. The last FRED was loaded and secured. "Well, time to say goodbye and good luck," he said, extending a hand. "Good luck."

"Let's hope I don't need that either," Jack said, taking his hand. "Thanks for all your help, Colonel."

"Colonel." Edwards motioned to his team. Lytton hopped up again, dialing Earth. "Let's take this home."

Jack watched them go. Once the wormhole closed, he wandered into the hall to look out the window.

The base had never felt more empty. It had never felt full, and had more recently felt abandoned, but at the moment he was the only living thing on the planet and 25% of the life (excluding entities) in the system, and it felt that way. It was hard to believe that anything existed here, even time. Hard to believe there was life elsewhere in the universe, even though that was why they were fighting here today.

He could see the ha'tak in orbit – a pinhead-sized speck moving against the stars. "Good to know someone up there's got my back," he said, and waved. He sincerely doubted they saw him.

He pulled up his sleeve. He had a new watch – this one displayed time and a timer side-by-side. _20:19. Mission Time: +15:44._ They were into Phase 2. He'd dubbed it the "Long Hours Of Waiting" phase.

Any time from eleven minutes to an hour and eleven minutes from now, Jacob would arrive to begin Phase 3. In the mean time he had the base to himself.

He'd actually considered bringing a book along. Or a Game Boy, or something on tape. He'd been working his way through the Bible on tape in bits and spurts for years now, whenever he had the time and remembered that he was doing it. The only problem was that he'd made it to _Revelations,_ and had no intention of tempting fate. He wasn't completely ignorant of Biblical allusion, after all.

_And I looked, and beheld a pale horse: and his name that sat upon him was Death, and Hell followed with him._

He shook his head. Well, if the silence made him paranoid, it would be a useful paranoia, at least. Keep him on his toes.

* * *

Above, in the gutted ha'tak, SG-1's scientists had come to the conclusion that the ship might not be a deathtrap. If they played their cards right and got very lucky. Maybe.

Actually, it was more of a hope than a conclusion.

They'd been putting the hok'ha'tak back together for over two hours, while both the planet beneath them and the various sensor alarms they'd set up on the terminals around them were quiet. It was long habit that had Daniel checking his watch in one of the quiet moments between requests for data from his terminal, though when he did, he turned immediately to key on another display.

"Okay, this is a problem," Daniel said.

Sam dusted herself off, and came to look over his shoulder. "What is it?"

"The sensors tracked Stargate activity on the planet," he said. "Two openings: 20:10 and 20:17."

"That would be consistent with planned times for Colonel O'Neill's arrival and Colonel Edwards' departure," Teal'c said.

"Yeah, but it hasn't tracked any additional activity," Daniel said. "Jacob should have been there by now."

Sam checked her watch. _21:44_. Mission time +17:09. The window for her father's arrival had closed fourteen minutes ago. _(Time.)_ It always came down to time.

"The fact that the Stargate has not opened means that the SGC has not issued a change in orders," Teal'c said. "We must assume Jacob Carter was delayed."

"If we break radio silence Anubis will know we've taken this ha'tak," Sam said. "This will look more and more like a trap."

"I know, I know," Daniel said. "I just wish I knew what was going on."

Sam looked over the readings. "We'll know eventually."

"That's not exactly encouraging," Daniel said.

Teal'c inclined his head.

Sam turned to him. "You should take the pel'tak," she said. "Make us ready to leave."

"I shall do so," Teal'c said.

* * *

One of Jack's least favorite parts of planning a strategic mission was deciding what constituted mission failure. This one had been worse than usual – more things could go wrong than one would expect at first glance, but of those, few would invalidate the mission itself. The ha'tak they'd claimed could be lost with all hands while still drawing Anubis into the kill zone, or the mission could stretch on significantly longer than planned without losing effectiveness. Hammond had said that if mission time reached +32:00 without entering Phase 4 (Anubis in-system) that Jack should contact the SGC for reassessment, but had left the declaration of mission failure to him alone.

Rationally, Jack knew that fifteen minutes was not terribly late as Tok'ra went. But rationally he'd thought that a handful of tel'tak-sized bogeys wouldn't be a threat to an untouchable planet, and that was provoking a very irrational bout of paranoia. The less-useful kind, this time.

Anubis could have jammed the 'gate long ago, and he'd be unaware.

Still, short of opening the 'gate to send an angry message through, he had no way to check that, and given his luck, the moment he did would be the moment Jacob tried to dial in. No. Waiting was the only option, not that he had to like it.

So he waited.

The base waited as well, silent and still, with the pulsar keeping time above him.

He was killing time by bouncing a tennis ball off the walls when the sound of a chevron engaging rolled through the hallway. He missed the rebound and the ball went rolling down the hall, forcing him to double back a few meters to scoop it up before he jogged for the 'gatecloset, but at least now something was happening. _(Fashionably late, as always.)_

He swung into the lab outside the closet with a grimace as the Stargate _whooshed_ open. "Well, it's about time," he called as he rounded the corner–

–to find that it wasn't Jacob stepping through.

It was Anubis, flanked by two Kull Warriors. The Kull, in symphony, raised their arms to fire.

* * *

An entity flashed into the ha'tak, through the engine room's ceiling. It arrested its flight to hover in the center of the room, turning to regard the human contingent.

"What?" Sam asked, foregoing pleasantries entirely.

_(Something is wrong,)_ the entity said.

"Things aren't going as we expected them to," Sam said. "We expected that Anubis would be in the system now."

_(We are watching the wormhole conduit on the planet below,)_ the entity said. _(It is inconsistent with our expectations. This introduces a new element into our plans.)_

"What new element?" Sam asked. "Show me."

The entity flashed into the ring transporter, raising the rings and holding itself in them. It reached out, one long tendril passing between Sam's eyes.

Daniel edged forward. "Sam?"

She frowned. "It feels wrong," she said. "The Stargate feels wrong. It's like–" she broke off, and the entity broke contact. "Radio Colonel O'Neill! Tell him if he can get out, get out _now_!"

"What?" Daniel asked, already halfway to the controls.

"Anubis is jamming the 'gate," she said.

Daniel hit the comm, but before he could say anything it came to life without him. _"Ha'tak team, this is Colonel O'Neill. I need an evac!"

* * *

_

Jack ducked behind a door, catching his breath and listening for sounds of pursuit. He'd made a hard sprint here – the last time he'd covered that much distance at that breakneck a pace, a mountain was exploding behind him.

He wasn't sure what kind of an evac the ha'tak could afford him, but with Kull and a half-ascended Goa'uld between him and the 'gate, ascension seemed more plausible than Stargate travel. He had three of the best minds in the SGC above him, and if they couldn't think of something–

Best not to think of that.

_"Jack, say again?"_ Daniel asked over radio. _"Evac?"_

"Evac, immediately if not sooner. Anubis is here, on the planet. He came through the Stargate."

_"What do you mean he came through the 'gate?"_ Daniel demanded. _"He was supposed to come in ships!"_

"Well, yeah, he didn't," Jack shot back, ducking into a windowless spur hallway. "He and his goons are about three halls behind me. Which is why I need an evac or, failing that, a really good place to hide!"

_"When we detonate the pulsar, the planet itself will be destroyed,"_ Carter said._ "You can't hide. Are you sure you can't reach the Stargate?"_

Jack covered his radio, holding still until he verified that he hadn't heard the tromp of a Kull's boots. "Pretty sure, yeah."

Silence followed of a most unreassuring kind.

"Carter?"

_"Working on it, sir. The outpost doesn't have rings or the capacity the receive craft. We can't land anything there."_

"Carter, at this point I will _take_ a brief jaunt through hard vacuum over the alternative. Crash something through a window if that's what it takes!"

_"No, sir, coupled with the radiation, you wouldn't survive. I think I have another way. Can you–"_

_That_ was definitely a footfall. He switched the radio off, sprinting down the hall and into one of a cluster of labs, making a beeline to hide behind a long counter. _(Why, why, why aren't drone-killing weapons standard kit? Come to think of it, why didn't I request them for this mission? I knew something was bound to go wrong!)_

The Kull followed, footsteps thumping over the composite ground. One of the other lab doors hissed open.

_(Oh, you had better not be making an exhaustive survey,)_ Jack thought. He couldn't see from where he crouched – which was good if the drone was only peering in, but bad for anything else.

No more doors opened. Palm over the speaker, he flipped it back on and hit the talk button. "Carter," he whispered. "Quietly and quickly, tell me how to lock these doors."

Silence. He risked a glance from behind the table. The drone was out of sight.

"Carter!"

_"On the panel to open the door,"_ Carter whispered back. _"Press these three keys at once: third from the top, two in. Fifth from the top, four in. Bottom right corner. Follow that with the top right corner twice, then the third key on the first row."_

He flipped the radio off again, desperately wishing he could read alien. It might have made the instructions easier.

The drone stomped out into the hall again, and his footsteps faded into another room. Jack took a deep breath – and ran into the hall.

The drone turned and saw him as he lunged for the panel, counting faster than he knew he could. _(Three-two, five-four, bottom right – topright topright __**agh**__!)_

He twisted as an energy bolt flew past his shoulder, close enough that he could feel the heat through his jacket. Hitting the final key, he spun out of line of sight and the door slid closed.

Behind it, the Kull was already shooting his way out. Jack didn't know how long it would take, but barring terminal heart failure the Kull wouldn't give up until he was on the trail again. Jack decided to be as far away as possible by then.

He flipped his radio back on. _"–espond, please!"_

"Ran into one of the drones," Jack said, jogging down the hallway. "What were you saying earlier?"

_"If you go to the audience chamber we may be able to trick the ring transporter into beaming you up,"_ Carter said. _"It's our best option."_

"Best, eh?"

_"Only,"_ Daniel clarified.

"Then that's where I'm headed," he said, and sped to a sprint. The audience chamber wasn't far, which was good and bad.

He closed the door behind him but the inner console was different; he couldn't find the code to lock it. He dashed into the conduit, activating his radio again. "Okay. I'm here."

_"Stand by,"_ Carter said.

He was certain he could hear something coming down the hall. "For how long?"

_"Stand by,"_ Carter said again.

"Only option," Jack muttered, and the door opened. The second Kull, arm raised and weapon aimed. "Carter, _now_ would be a good time!"

_"Working! These systems are – wah!"_

_(Wha–?)_

Jack didn't have time to wonder before the air concussed around him, slamming him back. The universe screamed white heat, coursing through the capacitors. _(__**Hated one**__!)_ roared _something_, striking out of the chute and into the oncoming Kull full-bore. The entity's rage flashed through him, hot and deadly, like taking a full-body staff blast without burning.

The world whited out.

* * *

Sam ducked when the entity burst through the ring transporter, and the instant it had passed she was at the controls again, priming the systems. "Now! Bring him up!" _(And hope the entity doesn't have other plans–)_

Daniel input the commands and the rings activated, charging the conduit on the planet and pulling in the matter stream. The figure who resolved was slumped against the rings when they came up, and as soon as they vanished into the floor, he fell.

Sam and Daniel were at his side in seconds. "Jack!"

"He hasn't been shot," Sam said, checking over his torso. "If he was caught in the–"

She bit off the rest of the sentence. She could hear the rings' hum and, reacting before Daniel could, she grabbed the Colonel's collar and hauled him out of the circle an instant before they activated again. The entity returned in brilliant white violence, screaming out of the rings and through the bulkheads without pause.

"Oh, no," she said.

Daniel had nearly dived into the lightning in an attempt to take over with Jack. "What's going on?"

Sam hit her radio. "Teal'c! Get us out of here! Full engines!"

Daniel confirmed that Jack was breathing, his heart beating, and looked to Sam. "What–"

"Anubis is on the base. That entity went to alert the others. They're going to detonate."

_"Understood,"_ Teal'c said over radio.

"Now?" Daniel asked.

"Now, before, and later are what they understand," Sam said. "They can't do it before and they're not leaving it for later. Which means if we're not out of here–"

"Bad things," Daniel said.

Sam stared. "We explode."

"I'd rather not explode," Daniel said.

Sam hit her radio. "Teal'c, _now_!"

The engines whined to life – and spluttered, and failed. _"We are within–"_ Teal'c began, and the shockwave hit.

The ship bucked and shuddered, gravity at odds with inertia and the force of the wave. A klaxon went off in the moment before the lights flashed out, plunging them into a careening, soundless darkness.

And for the first time since her death, she knew just how long a second could be.


	18. Starlight

Everything hurt.

Jack's sides hurt, his lungs hurt, his head _really_ hurt, and when he tried to do anything more complicated than quietly existing, everything hurt even more. On the plus side, that probably meant he wasn't dead. On the minus, being dead might have been orders of magnitude more pleasant.

Life in the SGC meant rarely going for the more pleasant option.

Something was telling him that keeping quiet probably wasn't necessary for survival – not for the moment, at least – and a soft, pained noise escaped the back of his throat. He opened his eyes, and a blur detached itself from the more general blur of his environment. A rather Carter-shaped blur, actually.

"Try not to move," she said.

He blinked at her. It came as a shock to see her alive, and it took a moment to realize why it should. It took longer to realize why it shouldn't. "What happened?" he croaked.

"Daniel's calling it somatic emotional shock," she said. "Combined with some bumps and bruises. You'll be fine, sir; you just need to let it pass."

"What?"

"You'll be fine," Carter repeated.

He tried to sit up, got three degrees up from horizontal, and collapsed back. Carter settled in against the wall next to him, one hand's fingers brushing the side of her head, staring at nothing. He had no idea where her mind was. Certainly nowhere near explaining. _(I could use some explaining right now. Even if I couldn't understand it, at least it would be something to hear.)_ "What's our status?"

Her eyebrows raised. "We're disabled, floating in space. Life support is down, but it will take a while for the temperature to drop and even longer for us to run out of oxygen. Everything is burnt out or fused. There's nothing left to repair."

He groaned, pulling a hand over his face. "Wait. That explosion was supposed to take out the planet."

"It did."

He blinked at the ceiling. "How–"

"The entities," Carter said. "I assume. They must have redirected as much of the energy as they could."

His hand dropped. "This didn't go according to plan."

"No."

"Story of my life." His eyes searched the ceiling, moving from crack to scorch mark to crack. "So, you're just... what? Coming up with a Plan Z?"

"Daniel and Teal'c are checking the ha'tak's compliment of tel'taks and gliders," she said, and he mouthed _Ah_. So long as _giving up_ wasn't the correct answer. "If one of them has an operational subspace transmitter, we might be able to signal for help."

Jack blinked again at the ceiling. "From who?"

For a moment, she seemed taken aback. "...I don't know," she admitted. "Anyone listening, I guess."

Jack closed his eyes, exhaled, and pushed himself up to at least the point where he could lean back against the wall. It wasn't _pleasant_, of course – his head spun, the world spun, and his stomach responded quite predictably by wondering whether it really needed its contents from his last few meals – but it was at least marginally more dignified than lying on his back, and dignity was one of those things he liked to avail himself of every once in a while.

When the nausea settled, he opened his eyes again. He had a feeling he was missing something; why _Daniel_ had gone to check the child craft and _Carter_ had stayed by to watch him be unconscious, for one. There was probably a story in that, but he didn't have anywhere near the brainpower to untangle it. "Any idea how long that'll take?"

She shook her head.

"But we're still good with the _concept_ of time, right?" he asked. "I mean, we didn't have any more adventures with the whole ascend, forget everything, come back down again...?"

"Jack!"

The hail came from the doorway. Jack turned his head, regretted it, put a hand out to steady himself, and wound up closing a fist in the upper arm of Carter's jacket. "Daniel," he called back. "Teal'c. Nice of you to stop by."

"You're awake," Daniel said, rather unnecessarily. Jack arched his eyebrows, taking his hand away from Carter's arm.

"So I am. What's the news?"

"Yyyeah. The news." Daniel stuck his hands into his pockets, and that alone told Jack everything he needed to know. "Everything's broken," Daniel said. "We couldn't even get into half of the bays, or into half of the ships in the bays we could get into, and of the ones we _could_ get into, we were lucky if their lights came on. None of them are spaceworthy. Everything technological is fried. Even the al'kesh we brought."

"Of course," Jack said. "Far be it for us to actually _keep_ one of our captured alien spaceships." He groaned, running a hand over his forehead and back through his hair. "Tell me again why we didn't have someone holding the al'kesh at a minimum safe distance?"

Daniel stalled for a moment. "...we were pretty sure that if the ha'tak didn't make it out, we'd be vaporized instead of stranded?"

"Right." Jack bit the inside of one cheek, thinking. Nothing came to mind. "So, what now?"

"Now?" Daniel asked. "Now..."

"We wait for rescue," Carter said.

Jack waited for a moment, but Carter didn't seem inclined to follow that with one of her trademark eleventh-hour plans. _(Right. Guess it's in Hammond's court.)_

It wasn't the worst situation. He had faith in Hammond, if nothing else. The man tended to come through for them.

"Well, in that case," Jack announced, "I think I know what I'm going to do."

Daniel inclined his head. "What?"

Jack let out a long breath. "I'm going to lie down again."

* * *

Time passed, and the temperature dropped.

Jack didn't doze off, though the unchanging atmosphere of the ha'tak neither rewarded nor encouraged wakefulness. The omnipresent ache receded to manageable levels and let him stand and walk around, marking the perimeter of the engine room.

He was no engineer, but even he could tell that the ship would never fly again.

On the third or fourth circuit – circuits punctuated with minor distractions, questions directed at Carter and Teal'c whose answers he wasn't interested in, games of kick-the-debris-across-the room – he stopped by Carter and Daniel, who seemed to be having a conversation impenetrable to anyone other than them. Something about criteria of truth, and something about teleology. He grimaced down at them.

"Don't you two ever talk about things like football scores?"

Daniel blinked, and a sentence about the fundamental coherence of the universe dissolved, itself, into incoherency. "...what frame of reference would she have for that?"

"The idea is to _jog_ her memory," Jack said. "Not–"

He was interrupted by a _thump_. A rather large one, at that.

Daniel froze. "What was that?"

Teal'c, who'd been sitting in meditation across the room, stood. "It seems to have come from the direction of the bays."

"The bays, you say," Jack said. "Any chance something just fell over? An engine misfired?"

"We investigated the bays thoroughly," Teal'c said. "There was not anything that would explain what we have just heard."

Jack winced, and turned to Carter. "Is there any possibility that Anubis might have survived that blast?"

Carter looked at a loss for words. "...we couldn't even see the effects of the detonation," she said. "Our sensors were destroyed. But we're still alive, and we didn't manage to leave the system."

"So if we're alive, when technically that blast should have killed _us_..." Daniel said.

Of course. When he asked how bad things could get, it was usually the universe more than his team who provided the answer. "That's not what I wanted to hear."

Teal'c raised an eyebrow. "It is possible the entities were unable to detonate the star with as much force as we anticipated, crippling us but allowing Anubis as an ascended being to move freely."

"Right." He cast a glance toward the hallway, then checked his rifle and motioned out. "Teal'c, you're with me. You kids? Wait here. We'll go check it out."

"Be careful," Carter said. Daniel blinked, as though he'd been about to say that himself.

"You know me," Jack said. "Stay on radio."

"Um; yeah, about that," Daniel said quickly, pulling his radio out of his vest. "No radio. All we get is..."

He flipped the power on, and a cacophony of static and strange bursts of sound flooded out of it. Jack jumped, and turned back before clearing the door. "Jeez!"

"That's the remnants of the pulsar," Carter said. "The radio output of a dying star."

"You're just mentioning this now?" Jack asked.

Daniel drew back. "It didn't come up!"

"_Right_!" Jack hiked a thumb over his shoulder. "Teal'c and I are going to go check out the creepy noises coming from the docking bays. If you hear either of us screaming at the top of our lungs, do... something."

"Do something," Daniel repeated.

Jack made an exasperated gesture at him.

"Be careful," Daniel said. Jack gave him another annoyed look, and stepped into the hall.

* * *

If the ha'tak had been a ghost ship when SG-1 _sans_ Jack had arrived, it had only upgraded its act upon seeing its expanded audience. Power conduits hidden behind bulkheads had overloaded, rupturing and twisting those bulkheads outward. Doors were stuck, half-open, with menacing darknesses pooling behind them. The air was heavy and not entirely clean.

They moved down toward the bays.

Without internal sensors, there was no way to tell which of the many rooms on this level the telltale _thump_ had come from. Nor was there any way to be sure that whatever made it hadn't moved on. So, they were stuck searching hall by hall, room by room.

In theory. In reality, they'd barely made it into the bay hallways before Jack held up a hand; fist closed in the _hold position_ signal. Both of them froze.

It hadn't been a trick of the ha'tak. Footsteps echoed from the hallway, coming steadily nearer.

Jack motioned again, and they fell back and took up positions behind two of the less-ruined pillars that studded the hall.

The footsteps rounded the corner.

_(Whites of their eyes,)_ Jack thought, counting each step as it came nearer, until they came near enough.

He signaled. The two of them swung partway out of cover; just far enough to level their weapons and sight along them. "All right, don't move!"

The figure did move.

Specifically, he startled, taking one quick step back and raising both hands. One of them held a zat, but that seemed to be the only weapon he'd come in with. "Whoa, easy, _easy_!"

Jack lowered his rifle. "..._Jacob_?"

"Yeah." Jacob lowered his hands, looking between the two of them. "Good to see you, too; I take it you weren't expecting visitors. Everyone all right?"

_(Fashionably late __**this**__ time, then.)_ "Present and accounted for," Jack said, straightening up. "Thanks for asking. Nice timing, by the way. Where the hell were you? You were supposed to come help with the bait!"

Jacob was already nodding, trying to brush that little detail off. "I know. But by the time we tried to dial the planet, the 'gate wouldn't open. It took me this long to get a tel'tak out here." Jacob made a short, inquisitive gesture. "What the hell happened? There's nothing left out there but a glowing asteroid cluster."

Jack raised both eyebrows. "It's glowing?"

"Some parts more than others. And weren't you supposed to be down on that planet, or something?"

"Change of plans," Jack said. "Got some uninvited guests. Ran before the cops arrived."

"Sounds like it was one hell of a party," Jacob said. Jack motioned to his head.

"I've still got the hangover."

Jacob laughed.

"But anyway," Jack said, "I assume you're here to rescue us? Because I've gotta say, I've had about enough of this neighborhood. Right now, I just want to get off this ship and go home." He breathed out. "Home's still there, right?"

Jacob snorted. "Yeah, Jack, home's still there. Looks like we won the day."

_(...won.)_

It was on odd feeling, welling up from the depths of Jack's chest, and it took him a while to recognize it. It felt as though things were slotting back into place, rounding off a journey they had begun when he'd asked, _Worth it?_ and Daniel had answered, _Yeah. I'd say it was._ Things were as they should be.

Or, if not there yet, then they were getting there. They were close. _(We won.)_

Jacob tilted his head, a bemused look playing over his face. "Are you smiling?"

Jack set his expression back to deadpan-arch. "Sorry?"

Jacob watched for a moment longer, right on the edge of calling him out, and then shook his head. "Well, come on," he said. "There was only one bay anywhere close to functional, and the airlock there might fail at any moment. Radio everyone to get out of here."

"...about the radios," Jack said.

* * *

They took the tel'tak to a planet Jacob called Niata, a scant two hours away at hyperlight. From there, it was one small step to Earth.

They set down in a wide and abandoned peristyle, built so that the world's Stargate formed the largest gateway in the perimeter. The colonnades were overgrown with ivy, or an alien equivalent; the blue sun, a pinprick in the bright sky, lit the leaves and saturated the area with color. Strange insects droned and trilled, occasionally rising in glinting clouds from the trees outside. It was a strange vista, after the desolation of '542, after the darkness and silence of space.

Jacob walked out with SG-1, shielding his eyes. Daniel went to the DHD, wrapping the sleeve of his jacket over his hand as protection from the hot metal, and Sam stared into the sky, squinting at the whorls of cloud. Jacob put a hand on her shoulder to catch her attention.

Before he could say anything, she turned to him and spoke. "You're not coming with us."

"No," Jacob admitted, and sighed. "It's all politics, kid. I've got a job to do."

Sam nodded.

"I'll stop in," Jacob said. "But it's gonna get crazy out there, if Anubis really is gone. And–"

"Ach!" Jack had been watching Daniel dial, but he couldn't help but turn. "Can't you wait ten minutes on the doom-and-gloom? I haven't even slept yet." Being knocked unconscious by a rampaging entity didn't count.

Jacob smiled. "Of course. Sorry, Jack. By all means, take the rest of the day off."

"Thank you," Jack said. "I think I will."

"After you clear it with George, of course," Jacob finished.

Jack gave him a mostly-joking but entirely heartfelt glare.

The wormhole flushed open. Daniel fished in his vest until he produced a GDO, and keyed in his code.

Then, all that was left was stepping through.

Jack looked to Carter, who looked to her father and then back to him. Jack looked to Daniel and Teal'c, and back to her again.

"When you're ready," he said, and walked through the 'gate.

There was a moment where he felt the event horizon washing over his skin, warmth without heat, and then there was nothing, and then he was through and the controlled air of the SGC closed around him, completing the journey from the base to the ha'tak to Niata to home.

Hammond stood at the base of the ramp, hands relaxed from loose fists. He looked like they all felt: tired, but with the relief that came from knowing it was only physical fatigue, not the restless weight of uncertainty and overwhelming odds. He was smiling, in his own, understated way, as he watched them come in.

When they were all through, he said "Welcome back, SG-1."

"General!" Jack couldn't help smiling in response. "You waited up."

Hammond chuckled. "What else is there to do on a Wednesday evening?" he asked.

"Thursday morning, now," Jack said, strolling down the ramp with his team – his full team – in tow. "General, I am pleased to announce: mission success."

"I know. I've already had one briefing," Hammond said, and gestured up. "Speaking of which, you have a friend waiting for you."

They looked up.

An entity detached itself from the ceiling, drifting down until it had settled on the Stargate like a gentle, luminous snow. Jack looked to Carter, nudging her forward with an elbow. "Think it's for you."

Jack turned and headed for the hall, already dipping into the easy banter with Hammond as he accompanied them away. Teal'c followed.

Sam walked back up the ramp, stopping halfway to the entity's perch. Daniel followed, but Colonel O'Neill had been right. It only reached out to her.

She closed her eyes, dropping into the echoes of its cognition. _(We have overcome our great enemy,)_ the entity said. _(Such would not have been possible without you.)_

_(Or without you,)_ she responded. _(Thank you.)_

_(It was our pleasure.)_ The entity shifted its thoughts; she could feel its regard flow over her, then turn away. _(We must begin the process of recreating your resumption of physical form. Some have already begun.)_

_(Be careful,)_ she said – and the concerns flurried up from the back of her mind. The lost Jaffa of the ha'taks, their symbiotes, the cold genetic evil that threatened to be reborn. The entity took the memories and regarded her, flooding back assent.

_(We shall be vigilant.)_

It held her.

The sensations shifted: alien compassion, alien anticipation, a common wonder at the state of things and at that state's impermanence. A sense of loss and melancholy. _(Duration,)_ the entity whispered – a holy concept, a lost one. _(The universe moved on without us.)_

"I know," she said, and surprised herself by speaking aloud. That was the way of the world – it kept moving, kept going, left you behind. It re-formed itself into something strange and new. No one could halt that. But by the same token, it meant there was hope yet: life went on. It would adjust to their presence in the same way it had adjusted to their absence, and in turn, they would adjust to it. "You'll be all right."

Warmth wreathed around her like a benediction, a fond farewell. _(You have our gratitude and our welcome. In our memories and our records you will be preserved.)_

"And in ours." Sam breathed in, letting the energy wash through her. "I'll miss you," she whispered.

It pulsed, suffusing her with the thrum of its life. The beat of her heart, of the old beating star – for a moment they coincided. It was the best and only farewell the entity knew how to offer.

Then it withdrew, turning the Stargate's ring. Soon enough the Stargate on the other side would fall into PSR-PV1-542, impacting the cooling core with a force equal to a thousand-megaton bomb. What was left of the planet would follow or drift into orbit or drift away, scattering into asteroid groups. Yes, the universe had changed. That chapter of her life had closed forever.

"They'll be all right?" Daniel asked, edging in on what little of the conversation he had heard.

"We all will," Sam answered, certain this time.

The wormhole flashed open, and Daniel winced at the light. Sam stared into it, letting its glow play across her face, watching as the entity passed through.

Then the event horizon dissolved, leaving only cool air in its wake.

She inhaled, feeling her lungs fill and her diaphragm stretch. She was the forerunner. The entities would reclaim their physical forms, and in part, she had made that possible. And the pure questioning innocence, the wild symbiosis with stellar fusion, the unbounded freedom of their energetic forms would be traded for a sense of identity which was to them far more precious.

And then they would live. The entities on some far world, and her here.

She turned back to Daniel. She couldn't put a name to what she was feeling, but she knew she was smiling.

"We already are," she said.

* * *

The problem wasn't that Jack needed to change into civvies before heading home. The problem was that someone had staked out the door to the locker room. Three someones, specifically, complete with a boom mic and a camera at least two sizes larger than Jack thought necessary.

The red **REC** light turned on as soon as said someones saw him.

"Congratulations, Colonel," Bregman said. His tone, miracle of miracles, actually had something approaching respect. "We hear you saved the world."

"Well, it was a team effort," Jack said, and stepped to one side. Bregman stepped along with him, placing himself between Jack and the door again. Jack gave him a flat look. "Let me guess: I tell you my life story, or you're not letting me go home."

"General Hammond promised you'd be made accessible to us," Bregman said.

Jack glanced to the camera, then back to Bregman again. "It's three in the morning!"

Bregman chuckled, possibly at the plaintive tone to Jack's voice, possibly by way of saying _Fool me once_. "We just wanted to get the breaking news."

Jack exhaled.

"Won't take more than an hour of your time, Colonel," Bregman said. And Jack had the feeling that Bregman was lying, but he also had the feeling he didn't have a choice. "Promise."

He exhaled again, somewhat more pointedly. "Fine."

"Good! Good." Bregman nodded. "Right this way."

And Bregman was even motioning Jack to precede him. _(Not taking any chances, this guy,)_ Jack thought, and made a wide, acquiescing gesture.

He headed down the hall to the only door left open, and took the first unoccupied chair. Bregman's camera man moved to set up the tripod, and the sound guy produced a lapel mic and came to fix it on Jack's collar. It was interesting, Jack noted, in the corner of his mind that noticed things he didn't really care about. They seemed to have this down.

"I want to congratulate you before we begin," Bregman said, though _before we begin_ was debatable, as so far as Jack could tell, the camera hadn't been off since he'd been spotted. "And thank you, I guess. One more, kind of, Goa'uld silhouette to paint on the fuselage, right?"

It was either too early or too late for this. Possibly both. "Yes. ...the fuselage."

The sound guy stepped back, and both technicians glanced to Bregman. He glanced back at both of them, then re-settled in his seat and flipped open his folder.

"First question," Bregman said.

"...right."

* * *

Night above Cheyenne Mountain brought clear skies, temperature a cool sixty degrees Fahrenheit, and a momentary freedom from the press of demands, obligations, and situations which were always found inside. It was freedom well-earned, in Jack's opinion.

His plan was simple: head home, fall into bed without changing out of his day clothes, sleep until that afternoon, and maybe fire up a grill if he felt motivated. Call for pizza and badger Daniel to show up, if he didn't. Hammond had given them downtime to recuperate, and he didn't intend to squander it.

He was a little concerned that his plans were getting another early derailment when he made his way down to the parking lot, only to find a note in Daniel's handwriting in his truck – not _on_ his truck, but inside, taped to the steering wheel – reading only _I tried. Head up to the clearing on the mountain, would you? -D._

Cryptic, that.

He turned back and headed up the mountain.

There was only one clearing of any importance to SG-1, just upslope from the SGC's emergency access point. It was a good spot for the occasional escape, whether watching fireworks on the Fourth of July or helping the Tollan signal for allies – but it wasn't the Fourth, and the Tollan were long gone. Of course, that didn't mean no one would find any use for it. Just that Jack had no idea who or for what.

The answer really shouldn't have surprised him.

Carter was sitting on the patchy grass when he got there, head turned to watch him approach and showing no more interest in sleep than she had the last few times he'd run into her late at night. And if he had to guess, what Daniel had _tried_ had been convincing her to take a nap, at least, and if he hadn't managed it, Jack doubted even an order would get through to her. The ones about getting a life never had.

He strolled up, hands in his pockets. "What are you doing up here?"

It took a moment to get an answer. "I don't know," she realized aloud. "Stargazing, I guess."

"Stargazing." Something brushed against his memory – some familiar ring to that answer, the scrubgrass and a much-more-open sky – but he pushed it aside, and looked up. "Find Polaris yet?"

Without thinking, she singled out the star and pointed toward it. "Alpha Ursae Minoris," she said. "Trinary system with a large Cepheid variable and two dwarf stars." She shifted. "Cepheids expand and contract with regular periods. They beat. But Polaris A's oscillation has been decreasing for several years – soon it'll be virtually constant."

Jack couldn't help smiling. "All coming back, isn't it?"

"Some. I recognize a little of what I'm reading, now." She paused, then dipped her head. "When we left for PSR-PV1 I came outside and I was surprised to see the parking lot. I didn't remember _cars_. It's things like that. But the important stuff is coming back."

"Oh, cars are important," Jack said. "Trust me, cars are important. And fishing poles, and German beer. Well, Dutch."

She laughed. "Yes, sir."

"The latter two of which I'd be more than happy to reintroduce you to," he said.

She gave him an odd look. "...has that ever worked before, Colonel?"

He feigned affront. "I thought you said you remembered the important stuff."

"I do," she said. "I'm getting there."

"And 'sleep' still doesn't qualify."

She responded with a smile, but little else.

He looked up at the sky, then down toward the entrance and the road out. "They haven't secured your house again?"

Carter shook her head. "Not yet. I still don't miss it."

"So you're just staying on base?"

"Daniel offered me his spare room," she said, with a shrug of one shoulder. Jack's lips turned up at the corner.

"Of course he did. You didn't take him up on it?"

"I'd rather stay here." Carter tilted her head up, searching amongst the constellations again. "For a while, anyway. It's familiar."

"Like all of this," Jack said, gesturing at the stars. "Too early in the year for Orion." More was the pity. It was a good, familiar constellation, and one she probably could recognize. Still, at least there were constellations to recognize, here. He pointed. "There's old snakehead, though."

"_Serpens Caput_," Sam agreed.

They were quiet for a moment.

Jack jangled his keys in his pocket. It was late – implacable hours were passing them by, each one putting the ha'tak and the battle and PV1-542 a little further behind them. Where they were headed next, he had no idea. That was life in the SGC.

Still, for the moment, he knew where he was.

He motioned down at the grass. "Mind if I join you?"

Carter echoed the gesture. He wondered, for a moment, if that was unconscious or not – a thing she was reclaiming, or a thing she'd reclaimed. "I don't mind."

"Good."

He settled down nearby her, following her gaze into the waning night, and they lapsed out of language. Then, for a while, it was just the two of them; two breathing bodies, two beating hearts, basking in the slow, unsteady glimmer of the faraway stars.

* * *

-END-


End file.
